He fathered my disease.
Dis.ease.
Un ease.
Uneasily breeding draftees.
Cirque de Sade -show for hire.
He feasted upon my wit,
My wet willingness to submit
Spread like legs
All over my fucking face.
…And I missed the way you taste…
And the way you tasted me.
I’m haunted by the owl
In the still lifeless tree,
Screaming relentlessly.
Persistently. Interrogating me.
“Who? Who? Who next?”
What . exactly . can one expect
And where can one expect to find it?
It’s got bars and locks
And a pack of dogs behind it
And I’m inclined to decline,
Turn around and unwind.
I’m not the kind of lackluster lust-er
That cums to mind,
Easily.
And I missed the way you taste……..
And the way you tasted me.
© 2008 glasshouse
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/5990/106595 on Thursday August 21st, 2008 10:50 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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