Monday, January 27, 2014


The whiskey bottle-capped secret
scent diffision,
if it is affirmative…
can crawl like dust mites
up the hearth of your home.

The lazily longitude of your slurring speech
cannot subdue the bottom card.
You will not ace my heart.
I will no longer live by your side.

If what I am telling you
is the utter truth,
you have my lips as your thirst
and below my girdle is your meal.

Upper or lower,
growing outwards in flesh,
rippling the molecules connecting
by infinite laws of science.

Let's have sex.

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