The Tangible Muse (an erotic poem)

Fuck fantasyA limited, unending constructCold, unsatisfying fast foodTo be thrown out, discardedStarved by own imaginationAnd a tease of a muse An occupying, distracting delusionUnending questions, no answersMy hands now rest on a tangible museMade of proper flesh,Thankfully, joyouslyAlive in knowing what the fuck it wantsMe, me, me, me, me, me With eyes, hands, mouth, and…

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