Sucka for Love

Baby don’t go..

Photo by Dollar Gill on Unsplash

01:00am freestyling

I thought that you should know.
You’re my 5 seconds rule.
Still eat you.
Where did you go round and round, pound for pound?
Down on the floor.
Couchsurfing on your sofa while you’re out the door pretending poor on double queen sized dead king, smooth sheets, clean, folded, but there is a strange stain of who knows who what did we do.
Still, so sweet.
Papaya seeds, African music, honey licking, expanding nipples and eyelids.
Sweet sweet sweet.
I am addicted to you.
Can’t work, won’t work, don’t work.
I am here for you.
Nowhere for me.
I can make you.
You can make me.
Like that, like that, like that, like that.
Are you there?
Still there?
Hold on me.
F*ck me this rhythm is taking over.
Tomorrow my morning train, thinking of you.
Double espresso.
To get me to go.
Get through.
Get me through.
Another minute.
Without you.
Think it out, out of space, my mind is licking headset dreams of lost lyrics trying to connect to lost links of who knows, not me, no you, miss you boo.
Ghost, ghostbusting in the metro.
Graffiti pic, I send you over.
You say it’s yours, I say I know.
I stopped to question you the last time I Aftershock Cinnamon your lower lip, gotta stick, get stuck.
Sucka for love.
You got me.
You got me now.
And the sex is amazing.
But I think you got me.
Do you know where you left the remote control to stop time…