"Sex Without"

I can taste the scrape of you, churning against the red of me, I look at the ceiling when I get like this, when I cannot be either or. I want real, I buckle in the hope of your perseverance, your try. My body cringes as though feeling around for you, and revolves, And oh, my head, it makes the howl and shoots forth tears, They pet the wall and clasp my hand, jittering around my eyes, I want you to hurt me so that I won't have to, and I need away into the night.