Tuesday, December 2, 2008

You keep me.

You keep me warm. You keep me fed. You keep warm, fed, punctual, high, drunk, fucked, and laundered. You keep me waiting for you when you tell me you'll be right over. You keep me writing. You keep me reading and writing and we rarely watch any television. Mostly we fuck, but sometimes we go out; but then we just talk about fucking the whole time. I don't think I'm much good for you and I bet some day you'll outgrow me, but for now you keep me around. You keep me around and you keep me warm . . . And all I have to do is like your dog.

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