Napali suwadoo poon da-woon doon-wanee


I want to touch your brown legs
I want you to feel my hands, like cold wind or, dull knives or
passion that was swept under the carpet for another to enjoy.
I’m going to need you.
Needing you is kissing your neck, not calling your phone everyday,
no disrespect.
I might want to hate you hair, and they’re. But you’ll need to love me
like guns that make clicking noises for no reason in movies, or, the way
you grind your teeth after rolling on ecstasy.
How do I uninstall a gadget?
No.
Do you breathe when you talk?
No.
I worry about you sometimes, with my sandy palms. I like looking at you though.
I like your somethings, and then some. Violent bumble bee, with no sting- I will.
I will.
Can I wear you like a black skinny tie? You’re smiling. You’re wearing no pants, and
you’re smiling. Your feet are naked, your shirt is tall, and you’re smiling.
I like you, means more than love. You can always love somebody, but like? Nao. Not
quite. I’m a liar. Paradox and lies.
So I’m coming home tomorrow.

Hello.

-Richí

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About Oil Underneath

I drink glasses of cold water.
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