irate professional iii

daddy, you have not talked to me or come to see me, in soooo long,
I miss your touch, sound of your voice, too much for me to take,
I must run, must keep my head about me in this boring town of nothing,
don’t kiss me, stop kissing me, this loser feeling out of control,
dirty tongue slipping, spit streaming, disgusting thinking,
beyond control, beyond mind, trying to control, me, not letting go,
holding on too strong, coming on too long,
needing space, getting attached too quick, mad afraid,
this is all he craves, how can I escape?
if I make it past today, never again, never explain,
completely confused, I know his entire game,
too much on the first try, too aggressive, all cards shown,
not knowing when to fold, no idea when to hold,
calculated his way into this orchestrated design,
not reading signs revealed in eyes,
unable to read between lines,
of bodies or the hands,
only chemical sparks, in playing the part
the seductive depart, slowly baiting the catch,
no resistance, too exhausted, no commitment,
too much at once, overwhelmed completely,
by hands that betray trust or care not for what first I think,
unrelenting insistence,
or how best I feel, distrusting his heart,
or simply the art of calculated naivety,
not giving his heart, machine like cold conduct falling apart,
a novice in art, too old to be trained from the start,
escape at last, escaping the past, freedom is given in part,
till with him I meet in the end we dearly depart

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