the death of K. Fantasy, filioque & fancy
First, VADIS existed, an obsession with the phallic androgyne when I met her in a gym class -- which in the aftermath left me hating bowling; I won't even try -- then, I overcame the lady vorkler & all obsession (being condemned for it caused me to leave Treatment) for the deluxe & delightful Bumble Bee Girl. Everything developed into perfection in the first 3 months, followed by endless exacerbations of anger, so I asked her to leave.
Love reunited us, but haldol entered the equation when I went up to the ER one evening. With it came ED. I thought the side-effects would go away once Perky Pam stopped shooting OD into my veins, so now when the Risperdal is in my blood & the blood is in my head then I'm still impotent.
So with all the sexual side-effects I hope will bring back the creativity of U-boat, my doctor prescribed Viagra. The first night, full of K. Fantasy, I'd never experienced so much ardor in years. But the next night, Trish became jealous, forbade all fantasy. Her anger spoils the mood, even when it's not about a deaf, dumb & blonde girly-girl (so far removed from VADIS & you wanna? to marriage). Last night I tried to think about the time VADIS actually came to Hunter S. Thompson House looking for me; how all the hatred inflicted by Alfalfa High would've ended; that I never would've had Bozo with the bottle after me, as fast as he could run; that the Horlot hatred that followed would've been aborted for Bulldog. Next, I tried to ascertain in mental images what might've happened had the hooker I met on my acid high actually spent the night with me. We need The Thrill of it All.
My problem is that she took away all Fantasy, not just this dildo I kind of kicked out of the house. Her mood has been so angry & bitter, Viagra or no Viagra, I find the orgasm-death of the neuraleptic remains. Until we're both healed, until I can go off Risperdal -- fuck all Scientologists who'll take this as support for their religion -- there will be an orgasm-death.
Boy shoot white stuff? A couple of times now, but it's largely been thru digital sex, which still leaves my woman feeling that she's not worthwhile.
It's not the K. Fantasy; she's a dildo, & not really a very good one, anyway, Butterfly Girl or otherwise. It's that I'm restricted from things that are naughty but normal -- though Trish herself likes to fantasize about movie stars & Britney's boobs, things that don't really turn me on.
The main thing about sexual fantasies, shared or private, is that you never act it out. We made a mistake with K. This kind of thing will never happen again, yet even though Trish went to confession over it, anger, guilt, hatred, jealousy roil thru her head at this woman who is impossibly bad at giving head & who we have both decreed will never be allowed in the house again -- it's just that I need to have the original mood repaired. No adultery, bi-bi bad girl, don't come around here no more.
Marriages made in heaven can survive in this life. Untold Fantasy now, & there will be magic once more.
Love reunited us, but haldol entered the equation when I went up to the ER one evening. With it came ED. I thought the side-effects would go away once Perky Pam stopped shooting OD into my veins, so now when the Risperdal is in my blood & the blood is in my head then I'm still impotent.
So with all the sexual side-effects I hope will bring back the creativity of U-boat, my doctor prescribed Viagra. The first night, full of K. Fantasy, I'd never experienced so much ardor in years. But the next night, Trish became jealous, forbade all fantasy. Her anger spoils the mood, even when it's not about a deaf, dumb & blonde girly-girl (so far removed from VADIS & you wanna? to marriage). Last night I tried to think about the time VADIS actually came to Hunter S. Thompson House looking for me; how all the hatred inflicted by Alfalfa High would've ended; that I never would've had Bozo with the bottle after me, as fast as he could run; that the Horlot hatred that followed would've been aborted for Bulldog. Next, I tried to ascertain in mental images what might've happened had the hooker I met on my acid high actually spent the night with me. We need The Thrill of it All.
My problem is that she took away all Fantasy, not just this dildo I kind of kicked out of the house. Her mood has been so angry & bitter, Viagra or no Viagra, I find the orgasm-death of the neuraleptic remains. Until we're both healed, until I can go off Risperdal -- fuck all Scientologists who'll take this as support for their religion -- there will be an orgasm-death.
Boy shoot white stuff? A couple of times now, but it's largely been thru digital sex, which still leaves my woman feeling that she's not worthwhile.
It's not the K. Fantasy; she's a dildo, & not really a very good one, anyway, Butterfly Girl or otherwise. It's that I'm restricted from things that are naughty but normal -- though Trish herself likes to fantasize about movie stars & Britney's boobs, things that don't really turn me on.
The main thing about sexual fantasies, shared or private, is that you never act it out. We made a mistake with K. This kind of thing will never happen again, yet even though Trish went to confession over it, anger, guilt, hatred, jealousy roil thru her head at this woman who is impossibly bad at giving head & who we have both decreed will never be allowed in the house again -- it's just that I need to have the original mood repaired. No adultery, bi-bi bad girl, don't come around here no more.
Marriages made in heaven can survive in this life. Untold Fantasy now, & there will be magic once more.
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