I am only three thrusts away
enjoying the girl,
oh her little bones,
sweet somber hair
as my pants
become tighter.
I watch you brushing teeth,
foam on your lips,
as my crippled spider
legs sway forward on
towards your tender little ass
hole like a cherry,
hidden within the cleft of a peach,
sweet, then a flash of violence
towards your haunches, hips, shanks.
Older women are sweet like saccharine,
but you are pure cane,
sucked peppermint
cinnamon disks,
which drip
the same as crushed
maraschino cherries.