SOLLLLLITYUUUUUUUUDE!

And it's like there is no key for my imprisonment in this frontier land. Nothing but every sweat I suppurate for each lonely run I schedule and commit to each day. I need excitements not committed to, and nothing is offering. I exhort the execrably untimeliness of my seclusion.
A run would be better sweated with one sultry sexiness, wouldn't it? Or at least a friend with whom I could console with on the fact there are no bare-bottomed hotties running out from the greenwood and abreast our own wood-s. Yes, to see every fine particle of sweaty essence coursing unctuously down a slick-skinned spine and to the comely bone corrugation just above a jiggling hot ass. I can only smell my half-sex-smell as I recline on this table chair in a dark, tenebrous, desponding dining room. Not even the tap of sylph heels up the stairs in an ascent especially to greet me. NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Something unexpected! Something so ineffable and obtrusive that grabs me by the shoulders like the scruff of a wrongly stabled stallion and rides me to some ever-increasingly illuminated incandescent point of light until I am shaking and angled and cocked to heretofore unimagined vistas of utter bliss and unununmirthlessness. A sexual experience, a mono-course-surpassing galvanization that just screams "HEY, I'M HERE TO JUMP YOUR CABLES AND SATURATE those languishing lodes of your mental repository so that your brain convulses its locks off and lunges into the slickness of future-come as A FUCKING BEAST!"
Maybe if Summer Glau descended in a metallically mottled space gondola to my bed with some mellifluous incantation like " I am here to extricate you from this sub-space sepulcher, with me into the aether be revived." That'd be ... wild.