Poof.

My imagination’s trying to get me killed.
Is this reality or another bouncing castle?
Is this a hand or somebody’s asshole?
Does the light play tricks or is it the shadow?

I see different things at the same time in different places.
Do I dream inside the dream and then miss the exit?
I stare at you for hours on end that’s the least creepy.
History in the family, it’s genetic batshit.

Saner than sane, paranoid, better hand me that search light.
Can’t deny there’s romance in dangerous derangements.
Take you time, plan ahead, bright futures for E-V-E-R-Y-ONE.
Who’s to say who’s who who’s what who’s gonna go cufulagaluu.

I wanna fuck my husband.

I wanna fuck my husband.
I like them a little feminine.
When I have penned up aggression,
here’s someone warm & complying.

He can be the one that gives away,
looking at his face for pleasure or pain,
causing something inside to vibrate,
nothing to be ashamed of cause we married.

It may sounds a little gay,
it’s OK we are both straight (what they say).
He tells me he doesn’t want to go all the way.
I see to it we both get a little taste.

Hey hey hey.