Lust by the Fluid Ounce

The sad reality

Slowly sipping on my glass of lust. Spilling it all over myself carelessly. I have had a bit much to drink. I can barely focus my vision beyond this sexy presences in front me. Contemplating on whether I should tell her to lay still while I outline that body with my insecurity. Quenching my satisfaction until nausea takes over. Why did the man upstairs allow this feeling to be rather pleasing? While the man under my foundation keeps me thirsty. Causing the juices to run down my chin by the ounce.

 

The taste of flesh like guilt seems to be my flavor of choice in a repeated fashion. Feeling as if I can change the world, just for the sake of my convenience. The more I drink of this cup, the more I can feel the burn. Not in my chest, but more so in the passageway that gave my mother the indication of how she should dress me.

 

A woman always told me that there is more to a lady than what she owns below the belt. Ironically, I knew a nappy-headed fella that drowned in that same river shortly after some seductive fox expressed those thoughts to me. At least I would have swam to shore. The poor guy failed to strap on his life jacket. Now he continues to look at the clock thinking when will I expire?

 

After every shot that I force down, followed by the thing she chokes down, which door will be my last is the trivia question. It has trapped me slowly, yet this warm glass feels so good resting in my palms. Some one help me please…not just yet. Let the taste of her salty sweat tickle my taste buds one last time. Man im addicted. Good thing I keep a watch on me. At this rate I will be clocking out soon…

Reviews

[koty bell]

brilliant man really nice job

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

I agree with Joe...........I like this one too!

[Kenneth The Poet]

Alcoholism in rhythmic prose. Powerful stuff, like a whiskey minus the rocks.

[Joe Shetina]

I love that title. Again, I HATE poems in paragraph form, but I like this one a lot. Excellent.