to a friend's wife
horny moths are the pains in the asses of narrow oval ends that remember the ashes on the head of a burned out Christ who was crowned King of the Thistles.
silver studded starbursts shot Heaven and stole the youth who was still fucking on her belly when her bloom went off on a new tomorrow.
butterfly sex compromises bodies, whereas sex behind ears of corn(y) midnight blues hold on to God’s expired trust; it’s no longer the transparent panel of faith.
ten of her commandments narrated a series of concentric sins in pools of flesh; their sweetness prickled the apples in God’s large scale Garden.
erotic margins are boundaries, and like vaginal tubes, their tunnels are flutes, hollow passages blowing stale air to stalks skies willing to take food out Angel mouths.
she scowls while his loss of power advances on the lions guarding the gates - lips bite into blood clots, decomp is in flames, risks as signs, have died.
a friendly vagueness haunts her temper, the lioness is a man brooding about glory’s role when all that remains is a slender poem of seedless soil.
silver studded starbursts shot Heaven and stole the youth who was still fucking on her belly when her bloom went off on a new tomorrow.
butterfly sex compromises bodies, whereas sex behind ears of corn(y) midnight blues hold on to God’s expired trust; it’s no longer the transparent panel of faith.
ten of her commandments narrated a series of concentric sins in pools of flesh; their sweetness prickled the apples in God’s large scale Garden.
erotic margins are boundaries, and like vaginal tubes, their tunnels are flutes, hollow passages blowing stale air to stalks skies willing to take food out Angel mouths.
she scowls while his loss of power advances on the lions guarding the gates - lips bite into blood clots, decomp is in flames, risks as signs, have died.
a friendly vagueness haunts her temper, the lioness is a man brooding about glory’s role when all that remains is a slender poem of seedless soil.