after 24 I stopped counting
stopped seeing
 my need
to dream
thought I’d already inhabit
my fantasies
which couldn’t be less —

tear me from my panoptic thoughts
 into your present
grinding our sealed hips in unison
taffeta screw and pre-drilled hole
ecstatically incompleting our communion…
 — I am not who
I wanted to be
I am not
 anyone at all break into me again
 my throat this time
don’t let me think hold my neck &
 feel your cock
expand my imagination stretches of time condense
 cluster in the immediateness
of my sating I swallow you deeper still trying to suck 
 you into my
inner being the soleness of my soul
 or rather
trying to feel my soleness 
 that I might — no!
pull out slowly until I catch
 a bare breath
 fuck my throat
 mercilessly push me
to my death take my absence 
 of Self
 — until My self emerges
 through the ashes of your cum

Like what you read? Give Alan Stauffer a round of applause.

From a quick cheer to a standing ovation, clap to show how much you enjoyed this story.