something pink

never expected such gift of intimacy. fabric. your smell. high.

was it that good? my lips and hands roam on you in that dark alley. the music rhythmically pounding the brick and mortar of that wall that i pushed you onto. your skin. your neck. you smell so good. cigarette smoke, alcohol and perfume. thundering hearts in our ears. blood coursing through our veins in lightspeed. release me.

you were that good.

-queens of the stone age: medication-

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  1. To her,

    Thou lit the walls of sinful flames within my noble soul, as the beast inside me has lurched and hurdled across your steamy body. I thence bit the back of your neck. blowing gustful of panting breath… Gusting… Panting… Inhaling… Exhaling… Sniffing… Grinding… steaming… Lust was so condensed in the wake of your expletive stringing the call of my name. Resonances were your shattering piece of your sweaty flesh.

    It was thee…

    It was thee…

    Yea, ye bitch…

    Seizing my hair, begging…

    “Be it spring spears my blossoming feminine voyage, Oh my beloved ranger!”

    • .gothikt.
    • October 19th, 2007

    what’s this? a yeats in the making? too crude and straightforward. perhap baudelaire? the eroticism is there but too cheerful. or mayhaps a nameless faceless boudoir minstrel hopping-smiling-tipping hat from booth to booth, singing of fornications to customers making out for a coin or two? lol…

  2. Can’t blame, been jolly is my nature and there’s always a snippet of anecdote in everything, even the sex. If that’s an animal sex, see it like a pondering coitus between those bunnies hopping at your backyard garden with summer love larks chirping under the roof top.

    “Touch Me In The Morning” – Diana Ross

    • .gothikt.
    • October 24th, 2007

    yes indeed. there’s something about baudy poetries that entertains eh? i for one prefer to skirt the line between full blown word porno, the lust-longing and love lost-unrequited. its true that what one cannot have and/or stolen from another, will always be sweeter.

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