Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Cordless warpaths throttle
A dim intercom

Peck and transmit
The wedgie sneaking across her thong

Onion on the blade, it suggests
My guts

Jiggling out of the cold
Not yet air
But autofellatio

Still as a stretcher
Cozy like chocolate calfskin

I think meatball and baby in her


Yesterday the wind again
Might as well

Exfoliate hobbling
Hookers from the mall
Priming a place to crate

What's left for the 
Patio diseases

And the minidress lather of
Primitive races whose mystic spirit
Premeditates my thrifty
Rachel Bilson-inspired pocket pool

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