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Apr 2010
pale sheet
besmeared
with inky
red's
black's
(blues)
catch on my i's
as glide (drip slither) - ing
across shimmering
linoleum
brown rounds (wrapped in white)
lead me down
perfect lips
to (between)
soft *******
ungulate
with rhythmic
lucidity
(i would put my strong hands
to your unbearably beautiful
vessel)
if only my mouth
didn't lack
PK Wakefield
Written by
PK Wakefield
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