With notes.
3:34 AM, Brooklyn
I’m sexually frustrated again
I don’t know what to do
when we do have sex she’s sandbag or mop
mop when her hair's wet
my best method is I give her massages
she just wants to ask what’s wrong and why
It’s not a stretch to say I need to make
real love to breath fire
but is this need to want
desire or lust
it’s just all the old people in my life
that ever meant anything
wished they had more sex
and tomorrow I’ll be 28
so suffice to say sex everyday
isn’t over doing it
and mediocre sex every three days is killing me
so something needs to happen
I wanna have sex that uplifts us
I wanna have sex is a conspiracy
did the FBI lay this on me
I’m not depressed they couldn’t get me unhappy
so the easiest target for a rapper is to assault their dick
I wanna have sex
I wanna have sex that lifts us into the air
sex that proves curvature of the earth
I wanna have sex I wanna make love I wanna sweat
something’s gotta happen
she’s sexually dead she’s sexually remote like the himalayas
she’s anxious all the time she’s lazy in the sack
she’s the woman I love
she’s sleepy I’m smelly her throat hurts the room smells like boxes
there’s an excuse every time I ask for a blowjob
and she’s running out of excuses
she is sexually dead, a cold fish in the bottom of a polluted sea
she’s on day 1 of yoga I hope with will save thee
she’s asleep, she’s awake, she's asleep
she's awake in a rush I joke she’s nervous nancy
when awake there’s always something to be anxious about
and when the serious anxiety subsides
she rearranges the items in every room
until she gets sleepy again
too sleepy to make love
but sleepy enough to finally rest
just to wake and do it again
and this is what dating a writer is like
cause all that anxiety comes
from her work, she’s writing things in every room
and she should! She’s an expert on arrangements
there’s always something misplaced in our room
something to be done, anything but ...
I just woke from a nightmare, someone was going to come in and kill us
she wouldn’t wake, I shoved 10 fingers down her throat
she's wouldn't wake, not in the dream, not in real life
I spat on her face, I tapped her skull, I couldn't be loud
the killer was right outside
I grabbed the cleaver knives hanging on a pegboard
arms reach from the bed side
ready to throw one towards the door
the other I tapped her nose, hard multiple times
she wouldn't wake, the killer was in sight
her anxiety is contagious that’s the real light
her anxiety is internal yet she caught it from outside
but I don’t get it, I just wanna have sex
I wanna have sex I wanna have sex I wanna make love
I wanna not have to ask for blowjobs like some frontline
honey there's no war going on except with our time
I wanna go back to the old days without the old ways
where sex was more common than a meal cooked for me
was is having too good of ex’s part of my fall
that makes this thirst intolerable
sex every three days?
that’s for the plebs!
I wanna have sex, I wanna have sex
I wanna have sex, I wanna make love,
I wanna fuck like I used to
I wanna conjoin cells with laughs and screams and tears and sweat
and pillow talk that floats us above the bed
OH did I say, I wanna have sex?
My dad is dead her dad is dead I wanna have sex
I wanna make love that honors them
not ignores our precious little place
I wanna make love that makes us feel great
I wanna spend my days without the news
I wanna acknowledge fears and kick them out together
I wanna be more responsible with screen time
I wanna have sex
I’m strong in faith this feeling this part of my life will pass
and my feeling will in one line
let it be why didn’t I
so if I write it all out that will subside
but at the end of the day, now I’m 28
and I'm not ashamed to say
I want to make love with you every day
not below this line
I’m sexually frustrated yet again
I don’t know what to do
when we do have sex she’s a sandbag,
a lazy laborer you wouldn’t hire,
my best method is I give her massages
if her hair’s wet on her stomach, a mop
she just wants to ask what’s wrong and