I await your call anytime of the day of night.  It comes at your convenience.

I make plans with you that I look forward to a little too much.  It is your afterthought to remember.

I forget my mad when you sweet talk me.  Being a pimp lauds verbal power over this willing subject.

I choose to tell myself I have a relationship.  It is a relationship for you too.  Monetary.

I forget the blatant actions of self loathing as I choose my desire for you over me.  You care too little but for your shot of humanitarianism when you throw me that bone.

I touch myself longing for any of you.  I get the seed you give devoid of the touch I need.

I go on with the years wondering if I could survive ho’in without you.  I know my fantasy of us is the addiction I live for.

I attach my strings so I can be played by you.