I drained my snapdragon.
And it felt good.
And I even felt somewhat righteous standing there like an adjunct professor.
Don’t remind me of the time when I carried your books to and from school.
Or when I bought you unfiltered Camels because you were too high minded to walk into that carryout on 5th. Avenue and pretend you were just like everybody else.
I remember penetrating you on that swivel chair as I pinned back your butterfly wings and called you my little Crêpe Suzette.
Some journeys last a lifetime while others are over in the blink of an eye.
I used to be so uncomfortable with the remorse and regret I felt after an orgasm. Now those feelings are the best part of the trip because the French are correct an orgasm is "the little death" and I love feeling my mortality covering my hands like Super Glue.
I’m reminded every single day that the choices I’m making are the wrong ones and that’s okay because I’m not here to win any popularity contests. I just want to succeed or fail on my own terms. Take a piss or shit on my own terms. Experience love and loss on my own terms. So there.