On your knees to give me reverence,
mounting me to show your dominance,
we’re creating a tempest in our madness and
echoing a storm when we should rest.
You’re shrieking my name in lost syllables,
in my favourite monotones,
of sweet fornikay.
Our Barberry moments filling the hours with grunts and sighs till the minute we stiffen,
As art.
Let’s start again,
welcome that inner body experience in the mist of milky exorcisms we’ve hailed in rhymes.
Draw pleasure on the bed post with my crucifix between us.
Wet your moist lips and momentary swollen lisp,
Let it moan
Let it moan and squeal in its drool ,
our duet on encore on the stained stage of sweaty sheets,
and our mountain of wrappers in a pile at our feet will litter the earth with children we neglect.
For every ounce of life we wear out, still steep and spilling at the brim.

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I am me. I am Me. I write when I want to be free.

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