in caked in minute flexing avarice of the dumb spiteful sun i,m; it laps constantly the empire of your ***** with its caving greedy light the effortless virus of its tongue whose buds are placid heaving minstrels; aptly rapacious guards; with pointed spears and blades lusting your rind most clangorously in the habit of its golden languor devouring the specificity of your hips the prim bud of your clavicles and and the dim musky sanctum of your pleasing eyes (kind sockets brimming jade splinters ) and the sweet shock of your moss. between your thighs.