Never was me

It's smooth... let me guide your hands, let me help you understand how easy it all is.  How sad.  This thigh, this ring, this thing that holds us together, tears us apart and breaks us down to the nothingness that crowns and crashes and thrashes about between tangled sheets and slow, wet dreams of yesterday that we pretend will take place into tomorrows.  Don't make me cry- don't let me fill up, well up and over-flow with all that moistness you thought so sweet now starting to stink of blind-sob-stories with no real plot.  It's not true- this visceral existence that has me drumming and coming and laughing out loud- like that day milk came out my nose- ah, but you forgot, had more pristine remembrances than that: of a white dress or black lace and maybe it was some other girl's face that you can't quite remember... don't want to concede, admit, or challenge that thought, subliminal though it is.  How sad- never was me.  Just roll over, forget the nudge, the grind, the hands down my side- they'll do no good, for though I feign sleep, really I'm just too awake to fuck out this dream-scheme.