Want wanton want wanton wont wont wanton want. --
The birdiy came by calling while you were sleeping. You couldnt hear its song. -- I miss having a dog. -- Stewart's -- It feels weird to have this character exist, at all. He's just a terrible combination of inspirations that makes me feel.....weird. -- been changing -- Every little notice, every buzz from the phone, sets it off. -- his daily schedules, the little routines. There's no logic to it. He's not even aware of it. Each morning he'd awake groggy, naked, and then showered. It shook him to now, he could actually be considered alive after the shower. --
The birdiy came by calling while you were sleeping. --
Now he wakes up groggy, naked, late and bolts out the door. -- Now he wakes up groggy, naked, late and he bolts out the door sans any sort of hygiene work. -- I miss summer days out with friends who I pined for. -- All the way around. All that around. The stuff that isnt it but around it. Those. Those. Those are the parts I cant stand. -- Stewart spends the day reeking, wishing he could wash away the built up filth but he's trapped at work. No one seems to notice, he thinks. -- I miss that feeling of attractive before the real meaning of attraction sunk in. --
-- I could tell the differences in the buzz. Based solely off the vibration I could tell what kind of notification I was receiving. FB up-date, E-mail, Apps need upgrade, text: I could differentiate them all. -- Maiesiophilia. -- Hate. -- I could even differentiate, based off buzz, who I got the text from. Which was useful in the way back. --
The birdiy came by calling while you were sleeping. -- It makes me sick. Yet it makes me happy. --
Disgust. -- The birdiy came by calling while you were sleeping. -- I miss certain people. I miss old days, ol' daze, oil haze, I miss. Ms.. miss. I. -- (Cut this Gertrude Stein shit.) -- Now, he showers when he gets home mid-way through the day or late in the afternoon. It feels amazing, it stops being an extension of the alarm clock. It's something pleasurable instead of a chore. -- This thing, this blog thing, has little to do with the original goals and I think I love it for that. --
But Stewart still wants to shower in the morning, he tells himself he will right as he falls asleep. --
It starts in the stomach. It twists, something I'll notice forever is the way it twists. Doesnt turn doesnt churn the from wall of my stomach twists when it starts. Always does. Then the lungs. I can feel the air I inhale. I can feel the empty space that fills up the lungs. It's not the comforting cotton that builds up in the lungs when you take a deep breathe, no. It feels like the void, the empty space, the vacant air that touches the outside of you sink and it's in my lungs. And then there's the buzz, the fuzzy warmth that spreads from my testicles. Pure attractive, pure want bursting out, spiking up like the hair on a porcupine when it readies to fight, like the back hairs of cat when it shivers. Even when Im groomed them smooth my balls send up that feeling of hair on end. Then I exhale, and it hurts, a little, in a some-one-biting-you-for-sex kind of way. Finally, I look at the phone. --
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