Thursday, September 17, 2009

Hungry

Close to the shores of consciouness
(tick)
I glimpse the shadow of your schlong
Feel your foreskin flower on my tongue
And that shy warm plum slide from inside
I savour that dark ember
And as your hips rise
(tock)
I remember your tight thighs -.

my mind breaks surface,
light splashes along my lashes
the sheet beside
is white and cool and wide
and my tongue tastes only ashes

14 August 2007

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