Cloth and kerosene, hot handed desire wound round the neck.
An unspoken image resided in mind.
We knew it wouldn't last.
Cheap cold redemption hung out to dry.
The small transistor radio offered condolescences to the end of innocence.
We continued to eat fried chicken by lake shore proper.
Flesh connected bone moving in blurs through broken sound.
An order was given to disperse the crowd.
It was brazen stung, beached and alive, looking for bed and sun.
Her warm soft face talked in gulps.
Hands could not grasp enough.
This time and her voice were best.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
y:
I have glimpsed latter-day tentacle-porn, yes
basil123:
Me? Never!