as the thighs above the knees burn through tears in the jeans. as the
belly
burns. as we think of something nice.
as jet trails droop like wet knives in a daylight shooting
.
we don't make wishes on them.
we just wish that the a/c will kick in when we
step through the door.
summer like chapters of mangled honey.
fingers like attitude problems. she lept in front of the bus [and broke her
legs.]
i stutter for you.
here comes my:
fur lips. storage bins.facilities.knuckle dragging. shouting lisp_
it's rough like
tweed-belly-hairs pushing up against soft earlobes resting on them
in the afternoon.
Hanna Montana is dead and we are happy now.
and
some call megod.
my best fetishes are a housewife that wants you dead for wearing spaghetti straps
and a hairy chest.
she watches the news-
gets off to it.
as
her son and step-daughter **** in the basement.
they lean in place in nothing but those white cotton socks that get wet and sticky from the laundry detergent spilt across the rubber-
mat.
the *** stained push-up will get left down there.
the machine will tear it out of its wire armatures.
outside the sun is burning the lawn.
outside
the fat black flies are *******
they drop, heavy- inside the windowsill
after 4 days of fury. the good fight
is lost.
their wings are sparkling
like gems.
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 3:34 PM UTC
as the thighs above the knees burn through tears in the jeans. as the
belly
burns. as we think of something nice.
as jet trails droop like wet knives in a daylight shooting
.
we don't make wishes on them.
we just wish that the a/c will kick in when we
step through the door.
summer like chapters of mangled honey.
fingers like attitude problems. she lept in front of the bus [and broke her
legs.]
i stutter for you.
here comes my:
fur lips. storage bins.facilities.knuckle dragging. shouting lisp_
it's rough like
tweed-belly-hairs pushing up against soft earlobes resting on them
in the afternoon.
Hanna Montana is dead and we are happy now.
and
some call megod.
my best fetishes are a housewife that wants you dead for wearing spaghetti straps
and a hairy chest.
she watches the news-
gets off to it.
as
her son and step-daughter **** in the basement.
they lean in place in nothing but those white cotton socks that get wet and sticky from the laundry detergent spilt across the rubber-
mat.
the *** stained push-up will get left down there.
the machine will tear it out of its wire armatures.
outside the sun is burning the lawn.
outside
the fat black flies are *******
they drop, heavy- inside the windowsill
after 4 days of fury. the good fight
is lost.
their wings are sparkling
like gems.
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