pop pop flat
how i'm feeling right now
no strings of being wanted by hunks
no physical validation of my sex
make me feel wanted with more than
your useless battlefield emails
i miss you, my portrait
princess, you're not here to take care of
to excite with my smart words
to tease with my playful yet painful experiences
"who's gonna take care of you, when I'm gone"
you said after the last time we pleased each other
your dog tags still hadn't stopped jiggling
you tell me faggot
you tell me
