In the Wee Small Hours

Sleepless.

Forever watching the ceiling and the wooden orbs turning through the wind of my fan.

Contemplating masturbation. But I’m not aroused. Far from it. I’m lost in my own thought, as per usual.

Music drifts in and out of thoughts.

Sex drifting in and out of thoughts.

I want to be held and rocked to sleep. I want to feel.

The wee small hours are the most painful. I realize that I’m alone.

Help me.

I can’t help but muse about being alone. I’m sorry if I’m boring you or upsetting you, but it’s just so daunting. I think I’ve lost a bit of myself in the past few days. Could still be there though. In the teeny tiny corner of my mind, I am hidden.

Fuck, I need to sex up my mind. But I can’t. I can’t concentrate on anything and I feel miserable. Fuck.

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