And trust me I do
Most people only get a piece
That’s all most guys want anyways right?
Attention spans too short to listen to what keeps me up at night
So I don’t bother to share
I keep the unspoken words of a million days filed away in notebooks hoping that when I die someone will discover them but in the same thought scared of what they would think when they read it
I’m in no way, shape or form needy however, sometimes, I do enjoy attention
I’m just waiting for the right person to give it to me
And not in vain for a couple minutes because they want some pretty bitch in their presence
I’m talking the real shit
A comfortable silence once in a while
Conversations, epiphanies and pontifications
My words skimming the soft cartilage by passing the beating drum to effectively penetrate the part of the cortex where you dissect rather than dispose
From the soft whispers of unspoken secrets
To the loud wails of frustration
Fearful to fearless
Who will be there?
Not trying to run game just so they can roll the dice and land three spaces closer to my bedroom
Who will be there?
To soothe me with the sanctity of honest attempts to understand my complexity
Who isn’t scared of the deep catacombs of a Scorpio’s mind?
Who isn’t too busy chopping down bushels of pussy to take sometime out to vibe with me?
I’m not asking for blood, sweat or tears
Not even a counselor
I just want some company
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