sumo sentimento

Hot and cold loves, sticky hearts and ice cubes in my glass of whisky. like and overripe fruit, the juice drips from my fingers and stains your clothes, face, white and smooth back, leaving the feeling that something is not right, succeeded by a blind faith that everything is wonderful, and than back to my eternal pessimism. a fascinating, hormonal, sentimental, raw merry-go-round, where I insist on trying roughly to keep my balance, without fearing to break my head in the rough asphalt.

there's a dream I would like to have: Sunday, both of us in an isolated beach, palm trees, ocean winds, solar energy. you grab a crab and show to me, he bites my hand and there is a droplet of blood. you get sad, I suck the blood dripping from my finger, crush the crab and we laugh.

cut: (in my dreams facts run over each other like a music video) we're in a mud hut with a small bed and two plates of well seasoned beans. we eat and lay to rest, you take off your clothes and look at me all serious, sit down beside me and caress my body. I start to suck on your thumb.

a strong smell invades the hut, we start to sweat, you ask me something in whispers, the breathing accelerates, pain in the back, involuntary spams, we cum and finally I cry, a long held torrent of tears, summary of my feelings.