Sad kind of imagination about the imaginary chronicle of the most beautifull girl of the world as a sexual slave and the try of being a guy

Like a shining trombone

filling a second

tight tits or kisses

meaningless effort

this try to be a guy.

Like a sunset out of the window

collapsed in the sky

like the most beautifull girl face

in the middle of this digital sea

like a hard nipple imaginated

nothing is reaching the effort

of being this try of guy.

Like a juicy steak and its bloody texture

in the bourgeois mouth

the sexual slave

the nippel and the tits

tightened and hard like cold iron

and the desire of being a guy

in this try to be a guy too.

Like a cloud moving to the mountain

the aproach of no one

the sense o no one

the most beatifull girl

that doesn’t exist

and her body

and her mouth

and her hair

and she being a sexual slave

and the bourgeois eating in Manhattan

and me

trying to be a guy.

Nothing is all around

but the silence of these perverted imagination.

And the sexual slave,

the most beautifull girl in the world

doesn’t exist here or anywhere

and the bourgeois is everytime the winner

and I am just trying to be a guy.

Harder, baby, harder please,

broken the remains of my innocence

but please, harder baby, harder, and deeper. Please

I’m no one and nothing is my name

when I’m just trying to be a guy and she

the sexual slave

is the most succulent woman in the world.

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