In My Spare Time

Alone.  
On the couch.  
Fidgeting every few minutes.  

Blanket on.  
Blanket off.  

Sitting up.  
Lying down.  

Eyes bulging.  
Heart racing.  

Intense emotions.
A thirst to be quenched.   

My hands, tied to its master.  

The calming aroma,
the mat of fibres,
a devilish pleasure.  

The forces are strong.
I am weak.  

The book has consumed me.   


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