birthday cake II

hard and soft, that’s how i like it. the oozing oxymoron is fucking hot. it’s that perfect mixture of ironies that blend with its metaphors adds an irresistible flavor to it.

lately, nothing else made me feel highly significant than the act of consuming the moist, spongy texture of this thing. the way it consummates in my mouth, the way it touches my nerves, the way it possesses me- truly exhilarating.

it's this deep, intimate connection with me that i crave. it 's that type of intimacy that transcends the senses. it's something that will haunt you for days. it's that kind of intimacy. that's what excites me.

this excitement is so powerful it overrides the fake energy brought by caffeine, l-carnitine, soda and other preservatives swimming in my blood.

it overshadows the already gloomy areas of masturbation.

it made me forget about the tragedy of having clammy hands that attracts dirt and sometimes causes things to slip away.

this feeling inside me is so powerful it made me stifle my thoughts of leaving the shackles of this corporate town.

it’s so fucking strong i don’t even care about money.

i just want to touch, feel, and consume it so bad. so bad that i had to rushback to m apartment and cancel all my appointments.

i think i forgot the last time that i ever got this excited.

the thought of it sends my neurons into frenzy.

ahhhhhhhhhh.

i am close.

there it is.

fucking.mango.cheesecake.

all mine.

the fridge.

yes.

oh yessssssssssssssssssssssssssss.

fuck.

someone sliced the cake in pieces and placed them in plastic containers with names.