You'll Be Okay

Right. Pistol-whipping is about to be on. Word. I will flow a river forth to Thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be.
So what do you need? You came here for a reason. Have we met? Did we fuck? I'm sorry, but I see a lot of people in my line of work, I don't remember you. What do you need? Of course you need something, people don't just come around here for shucking and jiving. So put it out there. Yes I can do that for you. Yes I will do that for you. Don't worry about the cost. We will discuss payment later. Tell me why you want this act done. I should pay you if what you tell me is true, I will enjoy this.
What is pinkish, bulbous and extends past my boxers? A rash. I wish it would go away. Also I don't wear underwear, so that riddle is a little misleading in more than one-way.
The Taste lost a bet to me. Now he has to send me 100 dollars American and paint his balls powder blue, photo his ball bag and post it on his blog. I'll bet that fucker renigs. Fucking reniger. I didn't mean it to be racist. Unless all people whom renig have their own race, which would explain nothing. But it would cause for a new box available to check off on all government forms.
The shitty thing about being in the military is that everyone and their fucking brother wear pea coats. At least I have plenty of leather. I am making plans to visit Los Angles with a couple of guys I am going to Washington with before I head to Germany. But like most my plans, I will probably end up in a Canadian brothel.
I remember the way she moved through the shadows. The light from streetlights or passing cars coming through the bedroom window always managed to backlight her. Angelic. She glowed as she walked naked from the bathroom to the hall and back to the bedroom where I waited. The clock seems to illuminate brighter as she lay beside me. I would pretend to be asleep as she would lie back down and grab at me to make sure I hadn't left. I would watch her breathe. Her skin reminded me of a liquid. He ribs shown through like the cube dividers in an ice tray as you fill it up. Her jaw would make subtle movements while she slept, a slow, light grinding of her teeth like she was rolling candy in her mouth. I would stare at her for hours and watch her wake up. I would pretend to be asleep; as she would sit up and scan the room for the place we dropped her robe the night before. She would sit at an angle, resting herself on her elbows playing with my hair with one hand gently enough to not wake me. She would spot her robe and sigh; it was always too far for her desire. She would rise from bed and ashamedly cover herself with her arms. She bent at the knees to pick up her robe and put it on quickly. She would then sit on the bed and smoke half a cigarette. She would try to go back to sleep, but the nicotine affect her too quickly. Finally she would go and make a glass of ice water, bring it to bed and dribble it down the front of her as she tried to drink and lay with her head slightly elevated. She would roll her eyes and wait for the alarm to wake me up. She never knew I memorized her routines. She never knew I knew them. She never knew I was awake. I never knew how thirsty I could be until I thought about that water.