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Jan 2021
swigging with a swagger and a high then on a low then he continues to sway: with his voice: swinging on the trees: and he pours green over my black, wheels regret the road where my gravity rotates,

elegantclasselitemistakes:speedingdownthehighway:neverscaredtod­ay:ifeelmyinhibitionsfloataway,

                             skin touch skin: smirk with another layer, hope I
                             behave. watches me walk and lets me be:
                      what do I think about that? gross encounters of the macronormal, reluctant to hear the digression in his voice: which pathway does it go? his voice grabs my hand, takes me through the tunnel, while his harmonies become the atmosphere, asking what I think about it.
                                           softenedlipsbrushagainstmeandyoucroonlowlyanditmakesmerockmyhips:­soItakeatraintoseeyou,wonderingwhatyourthroatwilllooklikebeforewe­kissinmidstofthesnaps.atrillhi-hat,herunsintheair,ahardrefrain,al­waysonbeat.therhythmcomes,skippingsteps,holdingnotes,vibratto.hei­nvitesmewithhiseyes,tonguelowerswhenheshowsmehismind,bringingsome­thingnewinmynewlife:awaitingshore.awaitingthearmsofhim.

cupping me in his hands
he flips me over in the back sheets of his rubber
legs ring around in the air
hitting the chandelier
clinks and jewels fly away
peddling against the floor
as if they are raindrops, the gems
the crystals break off around me,
sparks read me to sleep, my head swims
around in his body with his talons on me
I feel plastic paws and a dead ocean
where'd you go? where's your voice? I beg to be swooned,
I want to feel someone's lips on me: let me ****** you. show me how you live, show me your wallet: let me ride in your car
(restless the days seemed to have been: and the inbetween of night and day, the Truth that hides them, self-same, I swallow a clock: can I see? thunder rolls near, live song within its lining. a worried sun, light beams drip down the escort's mane, tail [long and in the way: windshield wipers swipe the rain away: faces ruined the mood, bodies are not food, can I stay here for good? for good?] in an ocean bed)
acacia
Written by
acacia  F/orbis
(F/orbis)   
96
     M Vogel and Brae
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