Playing with myself.

i did it again.
i can’t help it.
i’m with myself,
i had to do it.
it’s something i’ve developed.
i tried to stop,
but i can’t.
i just have to accept,
i play with myself.
my extended hand,
it’s motion,
deters an others grasp.
hey, i washed and
i was courteous about it,
why the apprehension?
oh, maybe i wasn’t clear.
but how can i be
when i’m solid.

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