What did I say to make you think what you thought
What did I do to make you feel how you felt
Was it the way I call you baby or hun, what was it
Is it the way I make you cum, tell me, I want to know, what is it
Was it those words I said that past your ears and pierced your soul
What was it
Is it the way I touch your skin and hold you near, tell me, what
Was it the way your body feels against mine; really tell me
I want to know, what is it
Is it the way that I show you that I care, the way I look at you that says
I'll always be there
Was it my conversation about things other than sexual perversion
What is it in me, about me that makes you feel the way you do
What is it that makes you look at me with such burning desire
What makes you let me in close enough to make you do the things you do
Feel the way you do, tell me, I really want to know, what...
I have of late taken the view that no matter how rebellious, unconventional, non-conformist we would like to think ourselves, we are at some point always part of a similar grouping of people. We are never truly leaders, but followers. Followers, I prefer to refer to us as sheep; because at one point or another in our life we are all sheep. This is a place to express myself, vent my frustration with the sheepdom, and relieve my boredom. It is my therapy for all that contributes to my neurosis.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
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