I don't really know what to write here. Clement says it's good to express yourself through some kind of outlet. He's a crazy bastard but a smart one I must admit. He's flicking through the channels with that blank expression of his. I don't know what he could be thinking now. His brilliant, muddled up mind is something I will never understand.
It's kind of frustrating I can't figure out what to write about exactly. I keep pausing and looking up at my ceiling thinking of what I should write. I look at him sometimes but he seems to be engrossed in some music video. Oh I can see why he's so interested. It's that guy from Teen Wolf without his shirt on. Wow I'm kind of jealous but I don't give a damn. He's got nothing on me.
Clement's looking at me now. I can feel his eyes on me but I'm not going to look at him. I want to laugh because I can see him pout from the corner of my eyes. He hates it when I don't give him attention when he wants me to.
He's on my back now peering into my brand new journal.
. . . .
I guess I had to stop when he started seducing me. He's sleeping now. His pale naked back reminds me of fresh milk Pappy used to milk out of his cows. I miss that old geezer. He must be wanting to hit me for calling him that.
I've been writing crap until now so maybe I should just go to sleep and snuggle with Clement. God he's so cute when he's asleep with his dark waves mussed up and his cheeks a faded pink. I can see the curve of his perfect butt rise and fall under my sheets. I'm kind of horny now. Guess I'll just stop.
• Vic out •
a/n: did you guess which music video?
YOU ARE READING
Translucère
Короткий рассказtranclucère [ latin ] | trans-lu-cre | » to shine through » // translucent // not completely clear or transparent but clear enough for light to pass through *happens when incandescent badboy meets hapless poet* poetry/not poetry which has turned in...
