on Saturday I lost my holey limbs to the turntable, jammed my finger down some strangers throat and hollared as he walked away from me, sweet nothings and everyday misjudgements but you said, "paint me neon like the hues of my lady blues as they crush between the balms of my legs and drain me." if I could flower you a rosebud the size of my browning fist and lunge it into the pit of your stomach, I'd hold you steady between the pressure pointed weights of my thighs, lick the sugar from my lips and wait for you to beg me for air.
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 3:51 PM UTC
on Saturday I lost my holey limbs to the turntable, jammed my finger down some strangers throat and hollared as he walked away from me, sweet nothings and everyday misjudgements but you said, "paint me neon like the hues of my lady blues as they crush between the balms of my legs and drain me." if I could flower you a rosebud the size of my browning fist and lunge it into the pit of your stomach, I'd hold you steady between the pressure pointed weights of my thighs, lick the sugar from my lips and wait for you to beg me for air.
