Victims aren\'t we all
Sleep in the silken drip of crimson
your smiling animus reflects
in the glinting blade easing
from your salty wound,
ahhh to waltz
within a measure
of pain and pleasure
this sin of mine is a merlot
blessed upon a goddess
of thralldom histrionics.
such beauty in the
contortion of a fading flicker
capturing your tight lipped kelpie
as I drain your orchid reservoir
collapsing your plum carnival
licking the afterglow from my fingertips.
Copyright ©2019
WhisperingQuill.All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted
in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods,
without the prior written consent
of the author or publisher.
All my poetry is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), WhisperingQuill.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Cracked Headboards and Napalm Whips
I rose from the
tomb of flames
stagnum ignis
riding the pulsar
saintly insane
same as you
defeating your sane,
you thought
frozen is I
with shame,
my name is
stitched in
the game,
slip between
the arrogant sigh
quilted in the
epiphany breeze
of your self-defiling
heinous polygamy,
I\'m every nerve ending
in your fingertips
every seraphic secretion
that drips from your clit,
the itch that builds a kingdom
inside every twitch
with daemon giggles
from lacerated lips,
stand in all your glory
hands clasped tied
with claddagh knots
seeping trinkets of fury,
aorta to thump drum
split apart bleeding pnuema art
slivered ventricles of six
sacrosanct crucifix,
yum yum dripping lips
defiled bile let me upstage
your riled hurricane
before you are delivered
to appease Belial,
my caged pet dripping wet
that\'s a sneaky sneezing peeve
Greensleeves plays its
melancholy hoopla
punta please no need to beg,
as serpentine lashes slash
crackling cracks in a flash
my little damsel blinded
with a sash think fast,
as I view crimson cream
seep between the crevice
of your luscious cheeks,
priapism off the charts
lockjaw tonsillitis mi Corazon
let\'s let bygones find a fire
in the depths of a psionic Zion,
now stay on your knees
and ask this master
if you are worthy
to swallow his seed.
Copyright ©2019
WhisperingQuill.All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted
in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods,
without the prior written consent
of the author or publisher.
All my poetry is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), WhisperingQuill.