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The other day, these fingers were the tools to which I operated the keys on this typewriter to compose you a letter. Today, they were the method and means by which I closed my eyes and felt that I was so, so, so, deep, inside you.
Yes, you electrify me, and I need, want, and must have your fine ass. Until then, the firm grip of these five digits are the man on locked version of being with the woman he loves. Today, our computers create virtual worlds, simulations, but in every man or woman they have within them their own personal computer, i.e., brain. And for centuries, these virtual simulation states have been called dreams. The nonsleep state dreams are known as daydreams. I am not mad that you’ve invaded my daydreams. I am not frustrated you all up in my mind. I am no different than anyone else, who wants, what he wants, and wants it now! Yet, my thoughts of you as a beautiful and most pleasing lover is a grand neutralizer to reality interuptus. All I know is that I imagine what I hope for, and that is to be so big for you, to be so large inside you. Not intolerably large, but fulfilling enough to take you to the precipices of intolerableness; so much so, that you feel me in an omnipresent way. Your every thought is uncontrollably consumed of me, every beat of your heart speaks to you of me, every fleshly tissue sings to you of me, and your contracting muscles, tells you how much they enjoy the pleasure of this heightened, nonrelaxed, state. I think we call it Nirvana? All I know, is that with gripping fingers, in a 6×9 prison cage, alone, with you, I’ve found Nirvana, in the Shangrila, of my mind.

by Donald “C-Note” Hooker

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