That Fuckin' Guy (a love letter from my indie pussy)(what does that even mean?)

Momma, where is Hood? Don't have to look too far, Darlin', but I'll do what I can so you can live and die within the walls of a rural family compound and, failing that, a gated comm w/ common grounds maintenance and hike/bike trails; even if I am deeply saddened by their small-town minds -- for rill, there ain't nothing but crooks in here. Looking through a wandering eye that is sunken in and I just can't stop thinking about how I never learned how to properly do chiaroscuro and so many other things. Too many men are mannish and I think masculinity is overstated -- like a mid-cap's earnings -- and even when it isn't, its overrated -- like mortgage-backed securities -- because I've been used as a shield from both a snake and a wasp and I haven't known what it means to be "supported" since I was a child; or at least much, much younger. My, listen to my words! they are my disguise. Nevertheless, I don't believe in fate but what a happy accident that I was I and you were you; that we save our energies for things much more pleasurable; like braille in the night; feeling you out, so smooth and straight and hard -- and I won't misappropriate my gratitude for your cock to god, so thank you.