Merely experimental. Tried. Just humorous fun. Contains a lot of vulgar words. Alot of grammar and spelling mistakes. Don’t judge just love.
Don’t answer because this only serves as a reply.
The feelings I felt that night hurt more than the headache that followed the morning after. If you ever see a man crying by the side of KFC, holding a bucket of fries and cursing at the non-existent person to his right, just be reminded that that’s not me and I forbid you to come near him. The poor guy is probably coping up with whatever problem he has. Presumably a night he regrets but don’t worry, I —, I mean, “he” can deal with it.
If you still don’t get it, I can’t blame you. My command over the artistry of words sometimes fools even the the gods of liturgy.
So I’ll tell you the truth hidden in my words.
The “He” is “Me”.
Gasp! May gahd waht d hill! ey kenat belib it!
Ehem — . Sarcasm aside, I didn’t even try hide it in the first place. I couldn’t. Part of me still hoped that you’d come to sit down and talk. Still hoping that maybe the one night stand was the start of something — . I intentionally left that hanging. Maybe someday we can decide what to write there togeth — FUCKING HELL!.
See I told you.
I’m a hopeless romantic. And, you were my most beautiful regret.
But you left. Or maybe I did? I don’t remember. I guess we can count this as something we did together.
Please, if you can see this, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY MIND.
Writing this made me think about all good things we did. And, the bad things that came after. Separation was hard, but sticking my wee-wee into your pee-pee was harder. Excuse me for the vulgarity of my words but — FUCK! Though it did get better as time passed. I just wish it stayed like that, but the pain came back when we said goodbye.
My wee-wee was sore, but so was my heart.
Others say that sometimes, the bad tastes like the sweetest nectar. Most of the times, it plunges you to a deep sense of reverie.
Its hard for me to see the truth for what they really are. There is comfort in delusions and regret in the truth. I guess we’re just a couple of idiots trying to lick each other’s wounds. Still, I have to thank you. You showed me what appeared to be love in a short but sweet moaning — I mean moment. Though, it sickens me that the ones I felt as “geniune care” or “eternal love” only lasted until Mr. sun decided that the game of tag was over.
You’re full of paradoxes aren’t you?
Maybe I was too.
I wished he didn’t gave up so soon.
But then I saw this SHIT. Again, excuse me. I didn’t know that you felt that way. Too. I was afraid to realize that our time together culminated only to the most trivial of things. A mere challenge of who had licked more the private part of who. But I guess there’s more to it than that.
Maybe there’s a chance?
FOR FUCK’S SAKE!
That’s it I’m done. If you still don’t understand, ask the idiot by KFC. Tell him that crying isn’t exactly the best way to salt his fries.