It dawns on, tinged orange shaped like cranberry, to be me is to be here with you. I worry that I’ve been only fumbling. Smacking my lips together little sewn tambourine. Your skin stretched stranded, my palm upturned and tattooed. Now clenched. Breathed a swoon sigh, like a soft click, like velvet that never dies, settling downy in the blood gulch. Plunge, twist, draw, me, me, me out the body of your enemies. Pounded back in. My horse never dies. I seem to choose to forget about the cookies on the rack. I am, on surface level, unsure. Crust below. Mouthfuls of fur, you stick to my throat and my stomach grumbles. You respond in turn, something like ______. My laughter a warm applause, belly as tight as a drum. Glow on, gully, gut me like a pig
Comments
No posts