The sweet splendor that is the saliva that trickles on your lips.

The undulating waves of your bosoms shake with every whip,
Of my hands to your bottom.
Applause for the naughtiness that soon has gotten,
My love so rotten to the core because of me.
Vexed due to *** of quite the variety.
Shake the squeaky bed and step on creaking floors.
Lifting her to ceiling.
Scratch marks on cheap floor.
Must lock door,
Must wrestle to bed.
Leave the this beast alone,
Give in to selfish request.
The likes of ***** love is not like what it seems on tv where apparently love is shaped cylindrical whilst my millions of my children race both aimlessly and innocently only to be flushed down through a porcelain waste disposal drain.
What if one my daughters and sons have the potential to be the next leader of our race.
Their race to *****, blocked by latex.
My guilt, my awkwardness,
Lead to guilty ***.
How not she cares of pain in her abdomen.
Give it to me daddy, she whispers down my neck.
However gradually I forget, moments of quiet where rain trickled in our eyes as I whispered words that should be said when someone is about to die.
I wish I could spit out those words as if lie.
I try.
But words of three I mean seriously.
But words I've spoke a time of many.
But words of meaning...

You tell me.