Why are women so fucking easy to please? How are their men out there that don't have a clue what they're doing? It's so fucking easy. I can almost go step by step with slight variations. Because you always need variation of speed and thrust, tongue, what you say to them.
And why do women not trust good men? When ever I'm an ass hole I can't scrape you all off my boots fast enough without the phone ringing or flirtation that borders on offense. But when I show my kindness. When I say this is who I am they assume I have some sort of vast closet stuffed full of insecurities. The fuck I do! Sure I've had my bad times. People have tried to murder me in numerous ways, one fucked me uninvited, been smoked by a bat and still I stand. Bombs, bullets, fists and feet and all I've got are a few scars and a certain level of skepticism. I have no qualms about my fears. I know if the shit goes down and gets crazy I'm the one anyone that needs to count on can count on. But I'm not into greed so you won't see me working some fucking job that figures out an angle and dresses it up as legitimate and steals. The only thing I regularly steal are hearts and on lonely nights they haunt me. I'd like to breed to find the solace of the other half the perfection of two opposites coming together and learning acceptance. Striving. Striving and living, giving and getting, sharing, taking part in not jocking, plotting, climbing, contriving. One shot, One kill. Always a thrill to kick in a door not knowing what's on the other side. Flying into the locked doors of subconscious and keeping the talisman of hybris around your neck to know your limits and where you can not transverse. Empathy not Apathy. Forgiveness not damnation. Words that bind. Honor. Memory that's long and hard. Accomplishment. All in the end surviving. This hostile universe seeking to snuff out our breath every moment of every second. In us all the destroyer that both belongs to us and is seperate; Yearning to rip open and howl, scratch and scream and devastate.
And why do women not trust good men? When ever I'm an ass hole I can't scrape you all off my boots fast enough without the phone ringing or flirtation that borders on offense. But when I show my kindness. When I say this is who I am they assume I have some sort of vast closet stuffed full of insecurities. The fuck I do! Sure I've had my bad times. People have tried to murder me in numerous ways, one fucked me uninvited, been smoked by a bat and still I stand. Bombs, bullets, fists and feet and all I've got are a few scars and a certain level of skepticism. I have no qualms about my fears. I know if the shit goes down and gets crazy I'm the one anyone that needs to count on can count on. But I'm not into greed so you won't see me working some fucking job that figures out an angle and dresses it up as legitimate and steals. The only thing I regularly steal are hearts and on lonely nights they haunt me. I'd like to breed to find the solace of the other half the perfection of two opposites coming together and learning acceptance. Striving. Striving and living, giving and getting, sharing, taking part in not jocking, plotting, climbing, contriving. One shot, One kill. Always a thrill to kick in a door not knowing what's on the other side. Flying into the locked doors of subconscious and keeping the talisman of hybris around your neck to know your limits and where you can not transverse. Empathy not Apathy. Forgiveness not damnation. Words that bind. Honor. Memory that's long and hard. Accomplishment. All in the end surviving. This hostile universe seeking to snuff out our breath every moment of every second. In us all the destroyer that both belongs to us and is seperate; Yearning to rip open and howl, scratch and scream and devastate.
Fuck it. Take a chance. Learn to trust yourself and hone your skills at being able to be open and judgmental of character at the same time. Be yourself and let the die fall where they may.