plastic tongue orgasm

 

YOU AND OUR PERFECT THROB.

THIS SOFT MEALS GETTING BETTER

EVERY DAY.  MARINATE THE WINDSHIELD

IN PUBLIC. OH NO, MOST OF IT I LIKED

YOU KNOW YOUR PART

AND EVERY FIERCE PASSION.

SLICK, RAW, SWEAT, WAIL TONIGHT

OUT OF ANOTHER BREATH. EXPLODE.

            I know myself, forget them.  I’m just ideas exquisite, and tumbling.  Here’s how slow goodbyes spread My love thin all my life. My mouth to the phone, ignoring language.  Her phone to her lips begging silence. Careful now, this too can break.   So you think you’re yourself to them. You dont want this life either. After we tremble leave me and bypass your thoughts. I’m not your breath yet.

 

 

 

 

 

From her whisper comes the promise of sweet night revisited and dressed in the moon. 

        If I left would his bump satisfy your bite, or would you be thrown aside again. Smooth out the imperfections of the day and  drown this fever in your lips. Save your tears.  Lose this thin grasp on blue days past.  With the thought of you I scream the night red again.  I can't keep you yet.

On her lips the taste of spring.  I drown in these moonlit games, and rise like the sun when she leaves my bed.

      

         

 

Reviews

[[untitled]]

why is this perfect?

[Amanda Crandall]

MARINATE THE WINDSHIELD IN PUBLIC.

Love that

Anyway, lots of fun wordplay in this piece, great poetry. The center seemed to me like you were struggling with the idea youself, and it left me feeling a bit confused. The last line is perfect, and brings the poem home wonderfully. Good Job