blinking murmured eyelashes stem from his vague profile. the indistinct nature of the luminosity is that born the child of the shadows formed in an old hitchcock film. in a place such as this- much like an empty catholic confession booth or an overflowing subway car- i can only form one certain thought: the covet of virginity is for the blind, love is for the weak, and this moment is ours. a constant glare of, 'i remember when' strums a chord between our eyes. music forms in my mind... haphazard swing in tempo. a melodious strain on precision. the moment glistens like a fountain and then suddenly poofs away and becomes extinct- a snuffed out cuban cigar in a lonely, rusted ash tray when the bar has been closed for hours and the air carries a parched stench of beer, left over testosterone, and bleach.

onliest to any other moment, but parallel- just like any other moment, i inhale his narcoleptic penis and semen spurts out in a matter of moments. i arrive here to eject it out into this wanton trivial slot. a funnier take of the night: perform, produce, pull off.