Cal Poly

Is this Sickness, Obsession or Love?
Synonymous is what they are to me
Your presence has made it that way
All night and day my being consumed
Beyond thoughts or words your passion ignites
What most thought was dead you have brought back to life

I must be wrong this is all an illusion
You are not real just part of my confusion
Why do I crave what is so clearly false
You are my air, my sweat, my heat
I am simple brief pleasure and bittersweet
Meaningless sex, no more than a lay

While my universe revolves around you entirely its true
I cannot breathe without thinking of you
I cannot cum without envisioning you here
I cannot sleep without having you near
I refuse to fuck or be fucked by another
My attraction so strong and illusion so real

I feel I must save myself for what may and could be
For I would rather be your slut, your whore, your toy
Then to be a Someone for some meaningless boy.