I do exist, though.


She’s got eyes full of gold, a head full of fingers, a mouth full of my tongue, with her legs spread over splinters. Rock me onyx dawning, like the milk from the almond, the warming morning is the first time your body’s calling; put your eyes down, lady luck I’ve got your fuck, and trust was too atomic to even dance with us, caught up in love, but we pretend that it’s lust, trust, everything is fine, in your glass drink my mind. With a dash of thyme, the drugs seemed honey so, lovely…lovely…..what is this money?
Liquid down to her ankles, taste buds to the sample, never…noticed how much potions were focused on her neck, so high like the flight of dead locust.

I too have gratified your thighs with my eyes, spent hours like sand grains between the games of confined concubine crimes.

 

Devstvennitsa.

 

-Richí

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About Oil Underneath

I drink glasses of cold water.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to I do exist, though.

  1. inikowaters says:

    Sheesh.

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