i am a sick man. (did you mean: im a sick boy)

my aunt holds a gentle hand to my head, her face contorting into an expression of concern when the thick heat my body has been waiting to combust upon all day has transferred onto her palms, "oh. my gio, you're burnin' up,"

a fever of 102, but this is no fever, this is love. this is the epitome of all ive ever felt, all ive ever needed to feel, this is boy fever and motrin don't work too well unless you have a boy hung over your back callin you baby.

im not sweet like that, though. i've got a girl name odeipa and she loves me like the sun. i also have a subscription to penthouse mag that neither odeipa nor my auntie know about, so why?

then again, boy fever doesn't care if you gotta lady or some rank magazines, it'll burn you alive before you can even begin to tear yourself apart and when it does, its over.