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1.3k · Oct 2010
it was that i was
PK Wakefield Oct 2010
it was that i was. gurgling a valorous *** of cells at the bottom
of the notched brick habitat of sickly algebra. and i and. with all
the dirt meticulously skeletal. trenchant chaotic lips blathering
skinny vocal animals. the smooth monkeys pinstripe about the
square in my needle city. well and i am an we. with your habitual
pocket of blood and dust in correct lumps small and large proportionately
spitted on your ideal, at my hips your hips(hand in hand). we walk
bythe specific straights towering sky breakers hollering reflective
skin. the neon electric residue of light smacks my eyelets. and
some ****** **** with the night air agreeably. but i,m a yours
and only. yes. so let's make some drips of clear tremulous benedictions
to this vibrant lovely hell
1.2k · Jan 2013
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jan 2013
it was milk again last night arms sweating teeth on edge and whole body steaming lathered in crocuses
1.2k · Dec 2010
hard soft
PK Wakefield Dec 2010
hard soft i'm large and groaning a fit of plastered excellence in my ambrosia fountain of giggling fornication this city is grandly exalting and flustering mightily incense of femmes du *** who art graciously ******* with a their boisterous choir of laughing *** or the men groping seriously their frail fair trackmarked beauty and they finger their air and lush and spit gratuitously their eyes upon their *******

                                   and they like to laugh with their haughty whorish
breath            a longing barely chained loosed slowly in splattering
                 abscesses of lust                
      ;         asinine men go and plead sourly your heads in thighs sweating
anorexic ***. your Are
         is
                                               just
cosmic
                   lice
1.2k · May 2010
it gave the impression:
PK Wakefield May 2010
it gave the impression: sudden aggressive
butterfly booming iridescent fluttering river
rainbow raw god rough glittering eye lids
hot tremoring air. constant blaring.

drown drown lovely staccato cacophony
beat swirling violence electric ***
rains off sudor soaked cotton skinned
burnished bodies ill-lucid contracting
senseless sensual pit decadent children

                 (in all this sticky love: truth is cleanly executed)
PK Wakefield Dec 2010
the lean stammer of long balking ***
froths diligently on my lady's bones
and it plastics a largeness heading
southern sea to lake and fire perpendicular
unraveling senses. a mire of spitted
tongues or saliva all a laminating
her magic gaggle of crumbling...
***** and notch; twin ecstatic jumbled
notes in discorded unity of tentative
lips... mymy
mym
     y
my     my mymym

                                  y
my yoke, my egg, my scorpion. ***** me quickly venom

   i'll a                       sprung!
PK Wakefield Dec 2011
wink twiddlers and tiddly winkers
slinking drinkers
in summer linger
loveluscious men hungry *******

those ladies are so
and dirtygorgeous loveless
twaddle with irate squirming
*******

by docks and alley backways
nestled dankness warmly
coils moist pools of
amberest light

in them drinks painful women
things incommensurable
uninnocent girl parts
prattle **** pieces

but some got pretty fast hot skin
belching from the hot music
coffins in short little
skirts covered *****
barley
1.2k · Sep 2010
IB
PK Wakefield Sep 2010
IB
YES. my simple biceps are purring perfectly slick immobile death
rictus wearing skulls. i needle my flesh and ink it and make it pretty

                      the smiling violence of my triceps
          bulge distended arcs of fists. ladling terrifically through stale
                             air mingling vibrant vibrations

calm tigers of effortless dream making darkness my arms dance and
jolt pleasurably and every body loves
               the infliction of their splendid pain;they roar and combust
suddenly at the night crafting carpals imbued to my wrists
jouncing and blustery voices thrash from throats

             they love it

they love it        they love it

       i
'll do it some more
PK Wakefield May 2010
neon simple lights littered street
               well glowing;
                                          deeply
          purpl.e
tired bodies roil
                              clustering
    for warm liquid spouts)
they don't ever stop
                summoned by loose
whim of smooth youths
     to dash their minds on wet rocks.
   what shallow indulgents

those
1.2k · May 2010
hot womb blooms
PK Wakefield May 2010
hot womb blooms
                                "'time is an in-finite mother'"
bursting  belly bloats
withs
econds
creaming
rand
reams
          they cry out
for release
  trapped in hollow tight
but
      they burn
but a second
                      before
smothered by                             passing
                                 kin
smoking from             that                           kiln
1.2k · Sep 2010
what,s beauty?
PK Wakefield Sep 2010
what,s beauty?shorn and tousled follicles.a b
-owlfilled with hushed buzzing electric teeth
masticating her hair fleetly. a soft waste deposited
in porcelain silent whiteness; a crevice kindly hard
to pertain the sheering

and rough gently her bobble i clutch and rub
its skein
the jostle gritty stubble rumbles contended
under my hands
but remains an onyx shock twaining sweetly
you
i love you
my                 little              valkyrie; scream
1.2k · Sep 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Sep 2012
who (unopen) came by 3or2
simple detours of images great
first trekking rediscovered unclosing?

                    Art,

whose work is                             men,
first

is nothing but this
1.1k · May 2012
if i seem strange forgive me
PK Wakefield May 2012
if i seem strange forgive me
it's just that i sometimes know
the littlest secrets of the hiddens
and of magic
                            and blood

that hides in flowers
                                          but at

night comes out like a song
and is fair and ugly but not mean
and has the body of the nicest girl
that you would want to kiss
but will never let you
because even though she's not
mean
            but nice

instead, but she'll never let you
kiss her because she's coy
with cherry red lipstick and
a smart haircut

                               so

please forgive me if i seem
a bit strange because really
i'm sorry
                  if it bothers you
1.1k · Apr 2010
accidental resemblance
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
corpulent confused corruption did deceive every vacant stare with horrendous precision loosing  strange muscles to oddly coil in deliquescent understanding; how ever this becoming became i shall not know for all my rigid conjecture; thus i surrender my accidental resemblance; especially : a visible sign of something invisible"

so did the metaphor roar
1.1k · Jul 2013
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jul 2013
it's the clavicles her
the
inching of

the
(her)the

vulnerable teasing the

at the edges pink the

trimmed in neatness the

amble of girlness palish

(******* just and
softer coiling
hushed by
an inch
of boyness)

she(the)her(the)

by the way sir(the)

i 'er the
gonna perce ya

a radiant by the folding o' yer faultless gleaming
(spear to plunge)
your heart and *****

a rill to let
of crimson mangé
1.1k · Jul 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jul 2012
***** summer(deeply1st)on edge
season, bonny, svelte and croons
with wide cheek rouge splashed
damson thick eve: muscled up
thick little back splayed fitness
invites sin(2ndnever)body the
white heather, comely fragranced,
dew weeping lilies are hushed
coolly at petals crush, the stem
carries 'pon winsome morn
and
                the faintly murdered, caving rush
1.1k · Dec 2013
Untitled
PK Wakefield Dec 2013
the new your are is
(strangely

                 familiar)i

like i(****

knitting. the bones and how
they fit
snugly
against my bones laying

into the morning
their smallness
and the tiny groan

of their bodybetweenmyarms(isqueezeeventighter)
1.1k · Nov 2010
i've a pale carnivore
PK Wakefield Nov 2010
i've a pale carnivore,
slaying passively the night
  in my cotton ember
and with velvet detergent she sprays me
***** loose hinges cravenly and pink
and disheveled lips
i split
          unmutable vast minute vines
snare exactly my naked burning crust
    an shuck absolutely
the dull sheathe of my so
unlovely
                 ****
1.1k · Aug 2010
'jessica'
PK Wakefield Aug 2010
in my heart blisters impossibly an amorous garden and every tiny blossom whispers enormously her name in plumes of kind scents bustling tragically in the summers hair lilting arches of lovely heaps
1.1k · Feb 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Feb 2012
i, night, hung about thy cheeks more splendored
beams crisper and wholly brisk with wind
than even winter could. i stroked about the
penultimate hour of your face the little and
stranger carelessly perfect lips of my face
and drinking so stilly the sky is abrupt
with normally clothed stars; **** and playfully
abundant. i lay my heart with thee and i am
increased. i lay hands with thee and i am
between the velour of your not-covered thighs
making, with you, an errant child like Demeter
and Poseidon (who hangs his restless skin upon
the nape of the coiled neon streets. hinted
at his edges just; the circlet of the bay, i wander
in thee night.)
1.1k · May 2010
ideal porcelain pin)k crease
PK Wakefield May 2010
ideal porcelain pin)k crease
      supple
                  roots in twaining
                  correct abstinence
                 gone rusty septum
                  thresh brimming
                      sacrifice;
shattered peace breathe heaving freckles
luscious ocean CraSh! salty teeth on plush shore
       make a specific cry blushing shoal
lush ribbon moan so       wet               you...
PK Wakefield Aug 2012
you're short unbridled hair is lady
fleeced in muscles downy soft with
wide hips and baby,

your skin is a pale house over me
arcing head back, your tongue is
nimble and it feels like hot wet
with my tongue,

your wrists are thin and your
door is tight and your eyes
flash with needing for my
roughness,

you want the charged release
of my love fist unfurls in the quaint
chamber of your pale house is
sick with me,

and i like how you're a valkyrie
that's short hair unbridled lady
head is arcing back and the
strenuous filament of your arm
strums electric the downy soft
with wide hips

                               and baby,

                                           '

                                     ,


                           '


                !
1.1k · May 2010
unbearable ink
PK Wakefield May 2010
unbearable ink
shallow needled skin
always commands
my groping eye's ardour
  purpleredblueblack procession
passive pleasuring tea drinker

          gilded she:
if not my hand so promised
      to another's i would
make thee a screaming puddle
          coiling ardent fever
scratch fervently at all my humors

so sipping sensual lady
      sat in a
coffee house
        metal nodes glisten
serene siren calling
1.1k · May 2011
from roses deeply
PK Wakefield May 2011
FROmRosesDeeply
D w,n
o      inrose's
        d;E
          e
         ply Sleeps a downy deep rose
A rose unrising sleeping
A rose of deeply sleeping
Downy Petals weeping
From the bulb of deeply sleeping
Sleeping deeply Rose,RISE!andSPEAKsoSWEETLY,
             a colour sweetly Rose
a colour of your sleeping
    the colour that youaren't speaking
       (when your downy petals sleeping)
deeping in their sleeping
                won't break that darkness speaking
'bout thy downy petals sleeping
1.1k · Jan 2011
burning strangled fleece
PK Wakefield Jan 2011
burning strangled fleece we bump chaotically
soft arrogance in morally languid pronation
leg burping fossas femoral twain (in which i'm
giddy a mustache of bristles coarse fuzz and grumbling
prickles hugely onyx( graciously bundled
to what about the huddled pulsing of EXPLODING GRIT!
in every flush molecule of bashful prim ) we girt
or flay the frightened silence scrambling gently on our scalding merriment.:',). . . .   .   .     .             .                                                                 .
1.1k · Apr 2010
dawn
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
the dawn did that stabbing
dark skin; running golden
chromatic blood
over rough hewn shoulders
jutting from inky dark pockets

claret slithers over drips(ing)
hills
the silent breathed noisy
sleep into every eye
that wasn't plucked from errant skulls

just like that
it kissed her whoreish
laughter bubbling through the seams in quiet

i miss her
1.1k · Jan 2011
melancholy
PK Wakefield Jan 2011
came it to a shade
what doing
as fickle cheeks
then all blubbering consternation
rode them snaking crystals
1.1k · Oct 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Oct 2012
slips from nothing hugely poem of
light creating light by leggy moon
over whole earth palely tousled in
maimed and drizzled in silver curving
a point is risen amongst (man) and time
earth away sprawl echoes of finite
sleep.but though it moon over(in
a little naked comely heap of pert
and blazing tinder calmly foisted
between sabled ******* of aching
stupid darkness)burns how and fiercely
eloquent

o moon though small and nothing hugely
poem shall i (man) a poem slip by mortal
wiggling fumbles; and O moon!quiet sleeping
curves away silverly(into pimpled quavering
neatness)i muscle leanly dispute the soil
and up to you gallop sloppy gallons of kiss
(for you are most pleasant.UR round and fit
nearly in my lips (who shall pluck you from
between ******* and fill me burning
                                                                        )Lust
PK Wakefield Dec 2010
;              climb incidentally a towering flat
   at struggling veneration's rawest berry              so scarlet a holly droplet
in manifolds of sage
                                          a sundered drooping door
i'm carefully falling porcelain                              sheeted hammers
       languid health    a protein          remarkably nascent    fronds spun
g,Ol
       den denting     vine
1.1k · Dec 2010
open splay
PK Wakefield Dec 2010
open splay ;
                                                    an hours day
this hot confection slays
immortal fever's lancing ray
a daughter lonesome,
soft as clay
                                           lazy magic brays
         a crooning caffeine
                                                     i must obey

                    her moist convection  

    her saintly pain )                 my dearest lily
  my beating cane
                                     iam yours



                                          to fill and drain
PK Wakefield Apr 2012
smiling not frowning not grinning
peculiar how with effortless crisp
cheeks unsentimental remember
your cheeks nearly my cheeks
oh and your lips were there too
don't let's forget how they tasted
like warm plum wine in a hot
little motel room in Eugene how
the sun felt like a delightful hammer
when we hadn't single thing to do
and we walked like nothing
everywhere because the van was
broke and we ate chocolate and
****** everynight
1.1k · Nov 2010
(1)ones laughing
PK Wakefield Nov 2010
(1)ones laughing like a dog with 2 22's
who're like 3: a whorish slightly giggling mess
3 prods the carpet by footed semblance of leather
assembling her flesh in the left corner of a lazy
rectangle cinema cube. 1nes still cackling throat
******* cords vibrating stupidly on every face              with the 2 maybe 23's

mouthhanding and eyefucking with his fat grunt syllabary. 3's uncomfortable
atthe sycophantic panting of her 23's atthis masculine discharge
wetting the silence a pulsing ***** of tongue barking *****           .     as an usher ushers fleetly our
moist intellects to the quiet little. the quiet little notch. of waiting excited
screaming visuals a screen crucified blathering.

the 1's ungiddy prance detonates by the skinnyjeaned legs pumping fetid motion. in company of long femininity. and the ovals of 3
grate swift bile at they're lump. and they swallow inthedarkness
his moronic spit. and puke  .    .                                        .
1.0k · Sep 2010
64
PK Wakefield Sep 2010
64
i have, twice or 1nce, or there and here, had this dream: (or once or 2ice)
a folding song of clouds by azure lungs shorn of air and vapor
amongst them walking going: an angel, young and old ministers

a scented stupid scratch of light in nights mouth abruptly quick
"how nice a thing i think i think a sorry muscle wafting

                                    verbs and nouns parentheses"

        the angel croaking slim sentences and plucking

on the          sun  a mountain against my eyes__

               to hollow in direct passion my slender aching column
and toe to head a scent of succulent silence magistrates her form
                                  how by i came and to the maw abounding
chrysanthemums a verdant pillow, with slow buds
      an autumn and a spring
where holly and emerald think in crimson berries and christ is
drooping by the wayside. it should be that winter is a cold and lovely
notion. but in my dream it is a hell...
1.0k · Dec 2010
cold it,s
PK Wakefield Dec 2010
cold                                                                                                                         it,s.
       fluid hard apathy,
the sky drank lubed heat
                                             pasted frosty hands
and
          gargled chirping rushes
                                                        a brown
stiffly
                                                                                       who's arms hold
            fussy ******
                                                      a book is patiently
palm loaded notation

                                             machiavelli

           today,
PK Wakefield Mar 2011
i
so
me t
imes
see in
those t
ranspar
ent eaves
the quick b
lack forest
of the panele
ss leaves the h
ithering blata
nt brains scurry
to and fro and fro a
nd too" their marki
ng frailing whizzin
g forth to which heaven
gabled songs the limp s
aints court and snuggle
gregariously the foiste
d girth of the black quick t
rees in there in their unrem
arkably souls i,ve watched t
hem go back and forth and forth
and black lithe brooding reams
of slow wood in them, there their
  i'm starting to wear wear wearing
1.0k · Jun 2010
on the lake
PK Wakefield Jun 2010
on the lake goes scuttling all the sanity
miracle frolicking tingles jaunty sails spread
as do the pink bits of *** splashing in the shallows
shiny toys why do you have to move like that?
plucking the young cords in my head with your
long skin sweating correctly oils that bitter sweetly
in my mouth. i can't keep from the rude giggling of
your heavy ******* my eyes to wonder on the ether
of their succulent tiny hills. sharply ***** the absence
of my lady and bleed away my devotions mouth watering
lilies watering in the mouth of my cerebrum. but so comes
the touch of her polk-a-dot lacey correspondence on my nape
and forgotten are the little delicacies as enveloped in the sugar
of her cinnamon wrists glad hands grasping about my knotted
tissues i am drawn into the unbearable perfection of her metal
lips.
1.0k · Feb 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield Feb 2011
christ was gangling,PARTICULARLY,of crucifix
drooping silverly reposed upon woodish portals
heavy oaken clasp swung adroitly to harbor
the rough shale and silk. the littlest chaplain
was swearing in there
                                       hewassaying"****"
1.0k · May 2010
effortless branch)
PK Wakefield May 2010
effortless branch) cinnamon skinned lovers
crisp the night leaves(
winding path stricken moon spit
caving shadow light lady of white haloed perfections

we walk stepping on
cool drunk earth
i,ve uncoiled muscle wreathed limbs
to pluck your hollow cords; make a melody unmeasured

(in a death littered valley
i made a song of you)
1.0k · Apr 2010
eager eye's
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
open eager eye's
eat apathy
with dark little mouths
you devour
everything you see
1.0k · Aug 2010
wHat beckons
PK Wakefield Aug 2010
wHat beckons is the silent Kingdom
a sanctum holy devoid. whose apt walls
are tawny bricks of quiet. the patrons
clamor somnambulant. and heaps of
proffered tongues litter the illucid
broken halls.

the forgetful powder piles neatly
limbs of gray on and about and
the pews drink the sun or the sky
     is a plait of onyx feathers.
an arrhythmia of breathes struggle
daft lungs. the stillness beats. bleating
nothing lambs flocked in stupid silver.

the mouths are all corded sinew bound.
epitaphs scrawled untidy letters drench
cheeks apathetic. a corpse of hollow resonance.
step and stone; cadaverous hues, sallow indolent
light on every stanchion.

                                                                in
the cathedral, cloistered, is a stiff artery.
a heart stagnant veins. a king whose crown is
ash, a face whose efforts are unfleshed. no skin
has purchase. nor sight. empty hood scythe loaded
dreams the morphea plated scalp. a soft vesical
limpid chromatic fingernails scrabble festering
nodes.

he is waiting
in the comfort of his filth
lithe carpals flexing summons
to his cloak

the candles are making naked lips
kissing darkness; lovers uncut
bound fornicating. i sitting sat saturated
the valley fluxes.

                and a tissue of blue decrepit
night dusting the sin of noise. a naked wind
     so                      says



         he
1.0k · Apr 2010
chalice
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
pale chalice
i hold you
(in loving tender)

-ness

put my lips to your
arrogant
threshold

sup
1.0k · Apr 2010
babble
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
voices bubble babble 'cross quiet's soft ******* slithering into the cracks between city sounds oral profusions erupting rhythmically with staccato precision her pretty lungs make sweet vibrato with corded compliance i try to hear her i but my sanity blocks its oozing path
1.0k · Jun 2010
mark the crisp mirth
PK Wakefield Jun 2010
mark the crisp mirth with wrinkled cheeks;

a day comes sun gilded

                                                              glowing golden,

a stroke of brilliant star tears
               playing lancing

d                                             a
                      ppl                           e                            



                               s


on the neatly

organized floor of a forest reposed

green


                               languor
999 · Apr 2010
distant shore
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
i opened up my head and poured out all my notions on stark gold that spoke with bleeeding candor.

It say, "what errant light is this silver profusion? wanders from distant shores to touch thy shimmering flesh."

i gibbered deliquescent
998 · Oct 2010
the copious girls of summer
PK Wakefield Oct 2010
the copious girls of summer are fair skinned laminate
withs blonds all ******* about their heads the air
or syllables of autumn in distinctly American voices
a swaggering insomniac who is springs ugly sister
but myfingers find her soft decimals and make her make verbs
of quiet *****; a distinct growl of decadent hair marching
from between her hips and about who is circling the
vultures of my hands. resting on her thronging paint
the goldenarch of luscious flesh and she tastes like
apples
              and cinnamon
                                        and dead

     my little fAll
997 · Oct 2015
Untitled
PK Wakefield Oct 2015
"I am alive,"
says the
tiny
rapid poem
of your wrists;

fair and not fair alike–
both soft
and hard with
beating
inconstantly
heart,

      (you will i will)

which won't but briefly
kiss perhaps
**** perhaps

saying lewd thing of
mouth through ear
to air;

art which
must have both
light and darkness–paired,
995 · Apr 2012
you're maybe atoms
PK Wakefield Apr 2012
you're maybe atoms)but)oh how nicely they are
supplely arranged in a neat package of *******
thighs hips divinely springing with soreness
hurting to be sick with lips
                                                  A
                                                       Disease you
like an incriminate of life want to ******
your pert body on my love sword
                                                                A
                                                                     Blade
you like to put in your mouth unlike (sharper
than) a razor upon which teeters my senses
febrile bulging festering with you

                                                          A
sickly with needing for pain girl
(if you want i'll hurt you like
how you like to be hurt
                                          )
                                            A
                                                Sort of almost
                                              pain which if
                                            you do it right
                                          feels so much
                                        better
991 · May 2013
Untitled
PK Wakefield May 2013
when i the you sweetly
sublime of
knees fleeting intensely

kiss inwardly
the entering sound

You
the perhaps exactly
shed a sliver of teeth

by catching skin
gag
upon a sliver
of ***** shyness

and seem feel
the arms by
youth hard

hands

crimped skinny hot
vulnerable teasing
to swallow
989 · Jan 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jan 2011
the mangled silver
  (her humeral jousts bangled a glimmering
charming wreck)
dancing lively wrists
jouncing purposelessly
   in the havoced quarters
(the shopping mall fooded court
                                                         )
she pasted me vocally inquiries
           i'd not answer
                                        dreaming sweetly           of her most
and
             naked
    whispering
986 · Jun 2010
velvet moon stammers
PK Wakefield Jun 2010
velvet moon stammers
mark the coo l ****** of an a-

       lmost-summers-day

timid odors yawning across the closing buds
gossamer pallor strong fragile lilies tumbling
s    p      r        a    w          l over coloured filaments
revolting abyss shapeless rigid absolute drooping

scratch the cobalt fluid sky meadow tremendously tiny pillars
woundless bleeding bled chromatic shivers to wrack the
dying

            phosphorus

                                    sunship

                                                     noisy

                                                                  folds of silence

shine saliva;wax the fledgling night birds cold wings fluttering in myarms

a simply complex indivisible division comes to day and says

                "now shall come this end but: no fear; it will be so
again" so caress every ideal nothing and come into my hallow
and i will lacquer you with my imperfect kiss till rises the falling
star sheet. and plays the song of birth from crimson licked hills
wearing the crumbles of

                                                 a) such lovely      ...
982 · May 2010
exact sunlight
PK Wakefield May 2010
exact sunlight crafted a sudden touch to my silken edifice as i tender traipsed from the border of my sanctum into the golden clutch of so beautiful a shimmering
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