(Posh female English accent) 

-in a shopping isle: “HOW, DO YOU MANAGE IT!”

Bike cycling.

Teeth brushing. Kissing scratching.

Talking and walking. Rushing, asking, wishing, wanting, wondering.

We (you) talk of Jet. A guy from Holland that you occasionally sleep with. I don’t know him, don’t care for him, never met him. He builds helicopters? Postures that you’re dumb and he’s smart. Mechanically sound, functional? Born into a cult? Dysfunctional family. How much do you believe? Mikkel is rich. He was born in prison. Mike slept with the girl back home that runs exchanges. You’re shallow, I’m shallow. Depth is water. Depth is perspective from out to in.

Top to bottom. 

I fuck you three times. Use my nails on your back. What a lay. So tight, you’re shaking. And it means nothing to anyone. Go to school the next day, same uniforms and Hollywood face.i turn the taps on while she showers so hot and cold are transposed. I hear about it, I read about it and think about it. Jolted to life; handcuffed to the bed, arms jarring, legs splayed.

Out breathing synchronises, like we’re swimming in eachother.

Massaging one another- inside and out. Hearts matching up.

A beat of sexual symphony. A water world, slippery dip. 

I bite your neck

Breathe into your ear.

Working, working, working; and it means nothing to anyone.

My pleasure, I do it because it makes

Me happy. I care not for you or anything. Greed. Our bellies touch, slippery with sweat. Hot from exertion, gripping and sliding. Climbing eachother. Raiding.

And later we talk of nothing. Our real selves slipping from our tongues. Irresponsible, neurotic.

How do you manage it, sweet pea?

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