now we can imagine her getting those mean friction burns, on all fours, while this beast is rutting behind her. Working up a flop sweat that falls into the subtle creases of her silicone back, all the while her face remains soulless, uncaring.
Her glassy, unblinking eyes, smothered in the unwashed sheets and blankets of a bed whose springs have all but lost their spring.
I wonder, if somewhere in the molecules that make up her silicone skin, is there any remembrance of a time where they were part of something more or even realize that they are no better than those lazy, squeaky springs..
Poetry of the dark recesses of the human soul, an abyss where man comes face to face with what severely autistic people do when they're alone & feeling urges.
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u/Naive_Personality367 3h ago
i was gonna go further with it, but i thought i'd spare you the look into my mind