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Ladislav Josephs Jun 2015
Read this poem only if you are alone.

You wished me nice dreams last night
I could say I have dreamed
About flowers, butterflies
It would be nothing but lies
I was dreaming about
My arms holding your hips
Against mine
Mine lips touching your sweet lips
Then
One hand squeezing your breast tight
Other hand holding your waist
So you won't fight
Then
With a slide touching the magic Place
Leaving quickly without a trace
I want to make it perfectly clear
I will never do it for real
Maybe
Unfamiliar face, with your touch that melts so warm.

Foreign bodies with the same intention, wanting more.

Exchanging breaths instead of words,
No expectations to be heard..

Lines blurred.

Asking nothing but a moment of euphoric selfless bliss

Just thrusts of lustful passion
with pain and pleasure in its midsts

  Subtleness.

As we continue to succumb this yearning, pure desire..

this stranger doesn't feel so strange,
like a flame amidst the fire.


-Bobbie Leigh
zebra May 2016
i was looking at you
and thought it would be fun
to shoot you in the ***
and use a big gun

you shook your **** hips
and said do me in bed
you pursed your pretty lips
and said i like to be dead

how do you figure
i'll look good when i splatter
please pull the trigger
and watch my skull shatter

no not in the head
id rather shoot you in the belly
please, baby, i said
you know i love jelly

you prefer stench
to a hole in the skull
whats wrong with you
are you really that dull

ok lets compromise
a bullet in the ****
wow that will hurt
i will scream i will grunt

i'm getting the fits
i'm upset just a tad
i'll shoot off your ****
before i get mad

alright honey
let's make it fun
ill open my legs
you shoot the big gun

i shot her once
she ****** my ****
i did her again
she went into shock

i'm not dead yet
but i'm starting to fry
whew i am really wet
but when will i die

soon darlin
do you think you can ***
i'm tryin hard love
but i'm gettin pretty numb

i shot her and shot her
she spassed and she lurked
i cumed in her mouth
then she died when she ******

i kissed her good by
she was **** to die
i ****** her some more
and went to the shore

now she's dead
i'm in a bad mood
layen in bed
i'm starting to brood

two days later
i met someone new
she said i like guns
what about you?

i walked outside
i started to cry
she kissed my mouth
and said im ready to die

i fell on the ground
ready to scream
what a merry go round
what a ***** dream :)
Dave Legalisa Oct 2018
i can feel the ship
that you are,
voyaging inside
the wormhole
that is an object
of my purity.
i can sense the
pleasure you keep
driving inside
like a mixture
of wramth and rage.
the moanings
and flickings
halt when
you run out of force
to keep entering
the abyss that i am.
all of the sudden
i feel the fuel that
keeps you active
and running.
it litters all over
the stars and rocks
and bodies
that embody
my purity.
it's quite a mess
but it's haven.
somehow
you are a ship
and i am the universe.
Blissful Nobody Aug 2018
I watched her from a distance,
Glistening lake gently flowed,
Flowed down her bare body,
The moonlit drop of my dreams,
Glistening in my eyes .

Ravenous thoughts rapture me,
Engulf me in the chasm of desire,
My gaze unmoving and still,
Yet flows down with the trickle,
On her bare *****.

A million stars sizzle a spark,
I want to capture them,
Little droplets of water ,
Making their way softly,
On her bare back.

I watched her from a distance,
The silk of her wet hair,
Wrapped me in a rapture,
Unmoving I stood there,
My gaze so still,
Yet flowing with water,
That she bathed in.
Watching what you can’t have:)
A Doubles Feb 6
I'm bottling up all my feelings.
I know you noticed that,
I've been holding back,
There's something inside I'm concealing.
You put me on ice for no reason.
You make my heart stop,
When you pop my top,
I'm bubbling up to the ceiling
I think you know what I mean and,
You know I'm just teasing.
I can't keep it a secret
Grapevine, gettin' too seedy (juicy)
Overtime my soul is primed,
You're so divine
Intoxicating my sober mind
'Til I'm,
Ready to chill for the evening.

Strictly for the VIP
Tipsy when you lean on me
Lipsin' up we don't need a cup
It costs a lot but it's free
I feel like champagne when I think about the love of my life. Everything bubbles up inside of me until the perfect moment.
Cné Aug 2017
A tentative touch unsure
of erotica I've yet to explore.
Her sweet ripe ******* allure
my watering mouth can't ignore.

Tickling teasing touch to ignite us
giggling on our high
Soft soothing caresses in between
wondering why I was so shy...

Our fingers tangled in long blonde hair,
then gently stroking soft warm skin.
Bodies writhing, legs entwining,
where she ends, there I begin.

Oblivious to our thoughts
enambered with desires
Lips of wine in heated passion
soaring pleasures even higher.

Perfumed oil on bodies glistening,
**** laughs and playful fights.
Lace and heels and toys aplenty,
Girl, we'll make this last all night.

By EJ and Cné
A little wine
A little laugh
A little pleasure
For our own behalf

Thank you EJ for such inspiration
https://hellopoetry.com/elizabeth-j-1/
SJA Jan 2
We locked eyes throughout the night.
But I couldn’t hold your gaze.
I felt my body temperature rising with every glance.
I turned away hoping you wouldn’t notice the smile spread across my face.
I never expected you to come up to me…
I still feel your hands around my waist as you whispered into my ear....
Little did I know I would crave more of your touch.
Hours passed…
I wanted more.
I wanted to leave.
With you.
I wanted to find an empty corridor where I could feel more than just your hand on my waist.
A passing touch wasn’t enough.
I needed to feel your body pressed against mine…
A mix of heat and passion as your skin touched mine.
I craved that sensation.
Something unfamiliar.
Wild.
Forbidden.
Johnny Noiπ Aug 2018
por·nog·ra·phy
pôrˈnäɡrəfē/noun: *******; printed or visual material
explicit description or display of ****** organs or activity,
intended to stimulate ****** rather than aesthetic or emotional feelings;
erotica, pornographic material, ***** books; ****, filth, vice;
             hard & soft ****, *****, girlie magazines, skin flicks
                        "an Internet site selling child ******* [?]"
mid 19th century: from Greek pornographos
‘writing about prostitutes,’ from pornē ‘*******’ + graphein ‘write.’
‘writing by prostitutes’, w/ names & amounts paid;
[the state of mind of constantly thinking about prostitutes or prostitution]
Johnny Noiπ Aug 2018
I had a gf that used to get called a feminazi,
but no one ever called me a feminanarchist;
I think what we really were is Feminihilists.

FFP opposed *******,
defined as the sexualized degradation,
*******, humiliation, objectification,
subjugation, violation,       psychological
annihilation, exploitation,  & violence
against women as distinguished from
erotica based on the mutuality
      of power and pleasure.

According to FFP's pioneering founder Page Mellish,
******* provides the training for ******,
assault & ****; results in the objectification
of women; affects women's ability to get equal rights
& equal pay, & encourages men to associate
*** with violence;  Page ultimately claimed
that all feminist issues | [    ,      ], [          ]
are rooted in *******
&   in a 1986 letter to the editor of The Wall Street Journal,
she asserted that FFP is "not against love & not against ***."

Page held that all men or women
who did not fight against *******
were accountable for the violence
against women, claiming that women
who enjoy ******* or rough ***
had internalized the male [gaze] & |
male definitions of power

Page's positions on *******
have been debated outside FFP,
including with respect to ****'s agency
on crime & feminist & *** definitions of ****;
Legislation alone was not a solution,
according to Page; it was also necessary to remove "the need for ****".

vehemently anti-censorship & pro-***,
Page taught me to show everything from
all sides; my other feminista professors
were pro-monogamy [patriarchy] while
Page was a combat boot wearing girly-girl;

she had these cute little doe-eyed Q's following
her around carrying the placards [        ] for her
spontaneous demonstrations against underwear
Johnny Noiπ Feb 5
Good: Programming
Alexa to recite passages
from classic erotica.
Better: Programming
animatronic sexdoll
to roleplay the parts.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
.sometimes you... just have to listen certain songs, for the giggles, and the Mutley sniggers to boot; you just have to; there are all kinds outlet down all kinds of avenues; life, has to, look, this, way; me expressing the following: a large number of people do know how to drive a car, but have no idea how to ride a horse... watch them... they'll be a-trying to confuse riding a great Dane... or an Irish wolfhound... did you know, that... wolves have no knowledge of barking? they howl, they growl, they snarl... but wolves do not bark! yappy-yappy... little domesticated dogs bark... but what do large domesticated canines do? bite.

well...
i don't have a driving
license for a car...
but i know how
to ride a horse...
ensuring i know
how to make
a horse turn left,
or turn right,
or gallop...
   how's that?
**** the driving license...
i can, ride, a...
horse!
       boom... erotica
shaggy: mr. ****-tastic!
****...
this self-deprecating
humor is hitting
the zenith point...
while the English-speaking
crowd are hitting
the: ridiculing the other
nadir.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
kate beckinsale & anne hathaway
can speak
the name... matthew all
day long...
                 and right into the night...
i'll try to fall asleep...
must be an Oedipus complex
sort of thing,
   in primary school my school
friends thought that my
mother had the visage for
   sandra bullock...
   ha ha! good luck to the men fathering
daughters!
          you ever find it easier
to pet casts, and cage tigers?!
              **** me...
my shatten is soliloquy central...
           i drink to excess and
listen to excess erotica latex ****
music...
      and then? do nothing about it...
i like cinema...
                         **** me...
a fetish for leather that extends
past a ******...
    i would have asked her sincere self:
can we drop the ******
so that i might attire myself
in gimp?
      she evidently replied
a no with her 19 years of existence...
oh... under-baked apple pie
my dear...
            ha ha!
           no, i have more cherries
to pick, i''m beyond stalking some famous grimace...
you are here           .



and i?



                                           .              am here...

who needs the excess of
quasi-journalistic coverage anyway?
    
           that transitioning harem
of rock stars...
     like Kafka said:
i'll be waiting for something
i never had,
and missing it,
            by never having touched
a peek behind the curtain...

   i'll wait... for what i could never have...
and within the confines
of what i could never have,
          i'll settle for what i can already, have.

kate beckinsale & anne hathaway
can speak the name matthew
all day long, and i won't mind...
        
      would i be the one following them?
train-spotting....
         taxi counts...
                 ******* crows that
croak mid-flight count...
           the number of canadian geese
in b-54 formation
migrating come mid-autumn...

          geek without the cartoons...
push me...
   keep pushing...
     i want the shove
and the ****** wording of auto-suggestive
courting of -
                           courtesy...

              thank you...
i'd rather stalk my own shadow...
looking out for the plot-line of
an eased out **** doing the olympic
gold medal dive into
the crapper pool,
via analyzing the shadow of plop
pop gold...

        zero splash...

                a ******* harmonium
on the neck of a Polish teenager,
traveling on a Warsaw tram
      to reach a girl who...
              was counting petals,
and the worth(s) of considering
the concise surmount of love...

             yeah... next time?
i'll be the one used to invigorating
the stance on stalking
one's own shadow...
             why?
because i fidget...
i get all jerky...
                  the hype instigator
movement...
   ******* a woman
like a piston of a car's momentum...

               does it really matter?
i thought the Madonna-***** complex
wasn't a man-"thing"?
   if man owns the Freudian Oedipus
complex...
  does man also have to lend in his
strap-on dictum for the
Madonna-***** complex?
   so...
              that's not a wholly woman "thing"?
she's doesn't own that
complex?
   it's man's fault?!

             i know the Rastafarian Putin
isn't rasp -
but you know that Israeli ******
are better than the Russian ones...
so the story goes...

               which kinda explains...
impotent with women trapped
within the Madonna-***** complex...
with Bulgarian prostitutes?
a limp **** only, and only when
i forgot to trim my ***** hair,
my Eden...

  i have the Oedipus complex...
am i also responsible for
the Madonna-***** complex?!
really?
                        you sure that women
are not supposed to attend to question
this trans-schizophrenic,
   squint / split /
           dichotomy?

                   prior mothers,
that prerequisite motherhood
with the basis of ******* themselves...

   the Madonna-***** complex
is outside the realm of the male constraint /
castration of rules...

   i already mentioned it...
i couldn't be circumcised...
   protruding veins, that met at the zenith
of the *******...
if they circumcised me...
        i would have bled to death...
the, "crime" of ******* is
a lot easier to handle...
   if you haven't been circumcised...

because?
   circumcision is a motivational tactic...
you are... technically... not allowed
to ******* once you've been
circumcised...
  
               you're free, to *******...
if you haven't been circumcised...
as a male...
            no problem...
problem of ******* comes...
when you persist in the act...
but you don't actually possess the excess
skin, that might allow you
the prime, solipsistic act...

    ergo?
******* is worth a justified critique...
ONLY, and only IF...
you've been circumcised...
sorry if you have...
           notably because?
your priest isn't a rabbi...
and there's no fiddler on the roof
matchmaker song
to boot.

oh no, there's no problem with the act
of *******...
  but there is... if you have been
circumcised...
  why?
    during ******* i used to pull my *******
back...
  and **** with an unsheathed
****...

      but in private?
the ******* was rolled back on,
to counter the imitation of experiencing ****
***... with a clenched fist.
Johnny Noiπ Sep 2018
Vestal Virgins forbidden to have ***;
spent their days getting groped
as they stood silently around the temple;                    having
to watch the sacred ****** clean up; treated like goddesses,
                                  they'd have preferred to be treated like
women, like the Senators' wives,    who per custom had to serve as temple
****** for a good part of the year;   harvests
                                                             flo­urishing;        |         little ******* born                & set adrift;       picked like apples
                          from trees & plucked out of streams,
yet the Virgins were busy scratching their pious itch,
     that became the
sanctity of Mother Church [Mary never got her freak on? oh, no --  I say she & Leda had much in common:  here's a tip, ladies,             don't let birds get too                   near ur snooch: weird **** happens:
              & eunuchs became the priests & bishops;
perverts doing the paper
      work for free;               for the chance to go frolicking in pre-Deluvian
                     Bliss
                     w/ fair-haired
                         boys forced to dress &  act as maidens,
                         inspiring fantasies of the long ago past;
when we think of the Golden Age:                   [our ideas of Erotica are very predicated on the 19th century's idea of ****** fantasy; which we regurgitate erzats back into our own cultural spaces;          *******, ******* & peeing & vomiting going hand-in-hand w/ giving birth;
       Life has forever been ***** & in the mud;
                                                            ­   conscious Fascists manipulate Pomp
                                                                ­                                & Circumstance
                                                   to enslave the World;     Fascists Never Win
                       b/c a Lone Ranger rides out of the Sky
                 & saves the people after much destruction,
                         sadly, new things need to be built;
                    so tear down the old & burned & obsolete
                       & build new powerful spaces for people
                                                               to live & thrive

          We think the Golden Age was like Rococo, but they were ******* Barbarians,
                                                                ­        just like today & tomorrow
a month's worth of a hiatus
and:
no luck...
   i try to remember whatever
presence in the comment
section...
  there was never any...
                how to stage a:
     dialectical experiment...
    none to my liking...
   will the fringe reading
the Dada movement
    of scraps of works of
arthur cravan, jacques rigaut,
julien torma or jacques vache
help?
         to be honest...
listening to the fringe band
like percival schuttenbach
will not help either...
  how the **** did i find
wooden shjips' album V
in the Romford HMV
on vinyl: i will never know...
last time i heard:
there were only 3 HMV shops
left in London - metropolitan
& outer...
       Doug Putman:
you're on mate...
    seriously...
     a music store used to be:
a culture of...
  well... talk to someone
in a shop that only sells
  mobile phones, or trainers?
back in the day:
you'd be hoping for
a coffee: and all that culture
of the busy bodies...
             can i get the counter:
that buying vinyl looks
less sad, "out-of-tune"
  than buying CD?
i had to ******* move into
the realm of the vinyl:
to kick myself out of the house...
i don't like this prison,
of everything being:
delivered to my front-door...
well: i will always look less
like a loser or a sad bore...
if i buy for a medium
without head-phones...
   that i take care of:
no the gramaphone is not
a car...
   but, ooh, a crisp vinyl
for the 20th century of
the late 70s...
something else...
big news throughout the week
though...
what news?
i'm trying to figure what
the news was...
i haven't heard the world
since,
  it cried something
for about two weeks,
   and i was like:
   and if that sort of propensity
is to ever make me
reactionary...
outside the internet village?
it's a ******* village:
get over it...
people are congregating
in village-esque
            scrutiny:
whatever the numbers,
     but for people who've
never lived for a month
in a city no bigger than 60K
(60K is exaggeration
regarding the city i was born)...
the internet is no longer
a "world"...
  i.e. there's no da-sein worth
to it...
   there's only a da-...
imagine my glee when Heidegger
was cited in the 2017
film call me by your name...
i was like:
finally!
       the sort of nonsense
i understand! and when people
would rather:
or rather would rather not...
spend 2 years of their lives
reading sein und zeit...
    or as i like to call it: sein und "da"
      und nicht
...
niemand, aber ein leib,
                         heulend:     ja!
it was either that, or:
listening to people exhaust the video...
one eventuality was
coming, one eventuality
disguised as an: inevitability...
because what is writing
as a compensation:
oh not the number of any sort
to count according to:
ego, prospect,
                  conundrum, eject...
sure, it's stale...
but serious literature would
never even dare to appreciate
these intricacies...
just today i picked up
the Sunday print...
yes... a physical copy
of the newspaper...
notable articles?

rankin: selfie harm -
instagram...
does anyone really want to see
my face in how i countered
acne?
      i just figured:
catch a fly on your face...
and say: Belzeebub took
a **** on your face,
embedded your skin:
and every time
you pinch an acne pore
from your face?
  maggots wriggle out...
now...
you don't a ******* h. p. lovecraft
to make a cthulthu counter:
i just did!
https://tinyurl.com/y9bbrtuc...
i'd have to be...
really ******* good at
photoshopping a ******* fly
on my forehead...
should have asked me
how much patience it took...
to "ask" the fly
to sit on me, while i moved
from my bedroom,
into the box room,
turned on my computer...
sat there,
   and took the photograph...
the metaphor for Belzeebub
sending one of his minions
i.e.: ******* onto my face
so that i'd pinch maggots from
it was already there...

yet a physical newspaper
it was...
headline news:
   the suicide generation...
in under 15s: 17 in 2013...
                              31 in 2017 (an 81% increase)...
15 -19: 170 in 2013...
                       207 in 2017...
       my age category?
i.e.: 30 - 63:
                            4,322 in 2013...
                   3,842 in 2017!
well: aren't i so, lucky lucky?

am i still drinking?
and when r. d. laing was not,
i was feigning to sleep
in my reading schedule...
any interesting news from
the newspaper on
a Sunday?

            just a week or so prior,
in the sunday times style magazine...
a dolly alderton
citing being an app-Onan...
    while for the past 10 years...
i don't really know what
a mobile phone looks like...
i hardly call it: hunched in a chair
over a keyboard,
with a whiskey handy
on the windowsill:
   screen time...
   you mean the erotica of
the 1st 5 minutes of a horror movie
soundtrack
when i lie in bed,
in pajamas (sleeping *****,
not good, not good...
pajamas are the way to go)
     having just turned off the lights,
and the opening-crescendo-choir
lullabies me to sleep?

- to be honest i'm ******* surprised
i've written this much,
given the sour news...
but this sort of news is...
hardly even accurate in my world...
i am tired of having
to invest in having opinions
that... i probably do not even have...
that's the beauty of
not caring for a "freedom of speech"...
i wouldn't like to have to prop
opinions...
   i might have them:
but as the fleeting of the day...
    i find it: actually hard to have
dogma...
             sure...
"freedom of speech":
   i already have that -
   when buying a pint of milk...
           i just find "freedom of speech"
to be a playground for
pseudo-dialectics these days...
           because: this is just pseudo-dialectics,
by the time a dialectical
moment happens,
the retort is prescripted, heavily edited,
and... there is absolutely nothing
of a friction, of coercion of
   the opinion, in argument,
toward a consolidation...
   what was a no-man's land to begin
with: is a no-man's land to the end...
     and if i fall prey to the lexicon of
the "culture war":
   i will simply have to re-state
my position...
    i am "manufacturing being:
                                       opinionated"...
and i do not have to even
     make a worthwhile concession
to...
           whatever opinion there is...

within the existence of the internet,
i've had one, yes, one
dialectical experience in my life...
on "foreign" soil:
yes, not with my dementia-ridden
grandfather:
   who's always prone to opinions...
on a bench,
with also an elder gentleman...
about...
    the delayed speech of his grandson...
and... about
rayleigh bicycles
and their cost...
     he supposed that his grandson
might be autistic...
    and might have to be medicated...
maybe: non verbatim...
i might have said:
   and no crushed pulp of
the vine is wine in the first
week of the fermentation process
having began...
whatever...

            an old man might say this...
but...
i have, no, contemporaries...
i don't have any...
primarily because:
i don't have a ******* video
camera and a mic.,
   just... itchy fingers and...
enough
     of a comfort to not have
to hear myself speak...
                 which: god forbid i will
ever do...
                  only blind-men
would bellow for
            a freedom of speech...
                    perhaps then i am
inclined to appeal to deaf
people...
          yes... all these conversational
overtones...
   borrowed, or rather expanding
from what was conversational
overtones in poetics
as instigated by frank o'hara...
        but hardly a real conversation
in what has become:
   a connected world
but also a congested
                replica of: the village life.

here's to my face,
becoming the new horror...
of the Instagram photoshopped
beauties...
   like the Cthulhu...
                i invite upon my face:
Belzeebub's ***!

p.s. oh... and there's only
something akin to
   da pacem domine (ensemble organum),
a templar chant
  in the background...

            a vision: less sinister,
and more... entombed
in a proud yet morose stupor.
Arke Oct 2018
chocolate covered fantasies
and peanut butter dreams
pin me down with rope
grab the cold whipped cream

paint me like a cake
with ribbons of sugar and gold leaf
watch me come undone
as my wrists feel your teeth

decorate me with candied raspberries
along my stomach and my sides
tease me with your lips
let me be your guide
got dared to write silly food **** by a friend.
Suhana Sep 2018
And when you take shower alone
Your flaw less skin so wet
With water dripping down your *****
And reaching the twilight zone
Then you think of me
Fusing my flesh ,my blood with you
Taking you up and up in smoke
And you close your eyes in bliss
Cause it's my gentle kiss on your lips
And on your hips that you miss
A late evening shift at the hospital again! my heart sunk as I checked my emails on my laptop.  Last time I could remember working on documents of patients and just cleaning up the premises; but nothing ever exciting ever happens on the night shifts. Half hour later I received another email automatically thinking it was junk mail. I was about to delete but the title of the email EXAMINATION caught me off guard;
what could this mean?

I opened up the email feeling on edge, this must be the first test but I've only been working at the hospital for over a week.


I opened up the email it read new clients and employee's must report to the examination room you will find your uniform in the locker 2BA you must wear this and report to the doctor. I was curious opened up the locker to find a long white garment and black flat shoes. The dress emphasized the curvy shape of my thighs and body but was modest it covered up my ***** despite the uniform being a bit on the daring side I thought that this was just another meeting for a health and safety check; nothing more. I reported to the reception desk the lady took me into the examination room which was eerily white all windows were shut. I felt my heart race waiting for the doctor to call me in.  He was a man at his prime in his thirties, long brown blond hair chiselled hands and his eyes observing they were checking me out working his way from my feet to my eyes.

“Your examination  can now begin, please take off your white garment”

I thought it was a very strange request; my mind racing; there must be a mistake; I'm no client due for a check up.

“don't worry its just a physical examination everyone has to do this for a health and safety reasons please unzip your buttons and we can be begin”.

I unzip the buttons, the garment gently rolls down my waist showing my white skin of my hour glass body and rose bud coloured ******* to the doctor

“Excellent please lay back on the examination chair”

I lay flat. I feel cold damp air rise, my ***** swell and harden following the anticipation. I feel the baby oil squirted into my skin his chiselled hands pushing into the creases of my thighs and back. My ******* caressed by something cold then by an intensity of something warm and wet, the doctors tongue begins to swirl around my *******  navigating down my belly, on my thighs  and finally finding my hot spot soaking me in juices. He samples and tastes them with his tongue “mmm the very elexir of life” . I can feel my legs spasm as he just hits that spot; can feel his chiselled hands  pulling deep into my *****.

“very good you are reacting very well to this”

He strips down can see nothing but his legs and **** dangling down. Still laying lay flat on the examination table. He wields his **** into my ***** teasing then prodding it quicker and more deeper making it squirt we both *** in pure ecstasy.

The day dawns through the windows we lay flat on the examination bed. Please dress yourself and report to the reception. This is our ***** little secret you can not tell anyone what went on here tonight. I smiled and said

“yes doctor and left the room”

The receptionist greeted me with a coffee and smiled “how was the examination hope it wasn’t too much work”  I smiled embarrassing and said

“nah, it wasn't  as bad as I thought, doctor was really good” the receptionist laughed

“that's good to hear well the new doctor working here is very thorough with his work. I laughed and said

“you can definitely say that again with a big grin on my face” as I reported back to my normal morning routine of checking on the emails and meeting up with clients .

— The End —