Tuesday, November 1, 2016


Drowsy. Swoon. Smoky demeanor
Moving with all the grace of a snake.
Thick. Swollen. With interest.
Populating vacancies - caught off guard.
Whisking heavy, deliberate, wide.
Stroking that cold cocoon.
Concocting satisfaction
The ripe apple reaching fruition
Sunken teeth.
Libido's pulse burps softly at first.
Portioning attention as though it could.
As the baseline in my britches...
...will not
.................shut the fuck up.

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