EXULTATION

Yes, i'll be that predictible and use the word struggle.
Or is it actually simply a pain,
A bloody pain in the ars
to know that there is no perfect balance between that fuckin need of aproval
and your emancipation.

I need that sence of forwardness.
And the small part of me that simply wants to settle down
is dispised by my hatred for morals,
hatred for normality.
The longing for that conformity kills me

I am oversensitive.
Over allert to pain
I feed off of yours, though
I feed off of what keeps me away for most lives

Empty spaces
Make my heart beat rise
I will never let myself conform
sell my soul to them
to their devalorisation of passion
of pain
of sensitivity.
I wish to never loose that capacity to create and image

I simply want to finaly emancipate myself within your arms
The virgin mary did not know what she was missing,
or so they say
And the need to accomplish something that
would bring me closer to that sense of adulthood

The plan is,
I'll get you within an hour.
and then I am the one who chooses how far I let you go.
How hard i let you touch me
How low you fingers are aloud to crall upon me
The distance between our hearts,
our skin.

I do not want you to have affinities with my mind
I do not wish you know how if feels like to draw
Let my pain reside in myself
Let me control you by that same sence of guilt that I will impose on your chest.

I don't want you to understand.
Entertain me
AND IF YOU LEAVE I'LL SIMPLY HAVE TO.