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Nov 2010
how came thy to thee? thou who art tantalizing(the champion of slender
******(
               art thou intricate and feared mostly of death?
fear not, thou who doth gestate sumptuously and fair in the dumb
fickle knot of my lazy arms. see serenity blood surely fierce of my tangled
morbid odor; claim its ardor with loathsome gross pleasant fingers and
comb the destitute morals therein which is panting a muzzle supremely
nuzzling my flaccid dearth of voltage.
      i know thee sweetly my goddess of sweat
                                                                                 , pain

        ,       and shearing passion and fear nothing

                        i       am        
  
                   splendidly         stitched in your fabric

   and we'll rot together.
                                           .
                                        .
                                          .
                                      .

                                            .



                                                            .
PK Wakefield
Written by
PK Wakefield
725
 
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