The female ****** is a rosebud
blossoming over the course of seconds.

Our organs were molded in the
image of clams and flowers.

God obviously
gave his blessing.

Nobody clams up over the right things
Flecks of dirt won't make beautiful ever
But those enormous irritations you take with a grain of sand
I tuck those things away
For a long while
It is against my nature to do so
It is awkward to keep salty things on the tip of one's tongue
Without spitting them out
Oh, I long to swallow
How much longer must I be closed up, love?