Sometimes, I think you are an infection.
A distraction.
A motive.
A virus.
An insidious crack in my core.
I don't like thinking of you.
I don't like the need, the want, the broken membrane. I don't like the compulsion, the fracture of the senses. The horrific mental imagery that generates itself, repetitive motion, the vile exchange.
I don't like the voices I hear through...
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Meeting you was seriously the highlight of my whole trip down there!!