"fornicate" poems
Copulation of the minds...
as word play
leads innuendos to fornicate
upon the poets tongue...
unrestrained
his fingers give voice to wanton
carnal desires
laying the reader bare
to writhe
helplessly beneath his hands
with ink stained kisses
he forces
words into their mouths
a breathless sigh
resonating his ache to be heard
as he stands naked before them
offering himself
to their voyeuristic gaze
before taking them upon the sheets
in punctuated passionate
embraces
leading them toward the ******
they so
cried out for...
Jesus I'm Good.
~<3~
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
I'm too despressed to notice I'm stressed out
Suppressed emotions inside, shouldn't let out
Seeing is believing but what I see isn't real
I am forced to accept these "realities" and ignore the way I feel
I don't mean to sadden, entertain, bore, or aggravate,
For a decade I find that this is how I communicate
The only way I can precisely speak out on the unhealthy pleasures
As the chemicals of my brain, they fornicate
These levels of relationships aren't supposed to be
It'll **** me sometime later, look at how it has ruined my personality
Seeing is believing, but you won't believe what I see
How can I act 'normal' when you won't acknowledge I can't do 'human being'
My animalistic compulsions are fuelled by my failing brain functions
Don't get too close cause I'll try to bite, I sympathise for your flesh when I malfuntion
Don't be scared, I'm not canibalistic, I just like to use my teeth
Humans scare me, I must defend myself, uh, I mean, to smile and eat
I'm not afraid to say it, but I'm scared when I'm saying it, I have to say
I have been observing your mundane human actions, I really don't want to be put away
I always feel foreign, alienated, out-of-place
But because I'm "considerate," I have to bite my tongue to save me some face
I'm too stressed out to notice that I'm depressed
Wanting mental soundessnes, yes, peace, my hallucinations don't give me rest
My taughts speed down their highway, my delusions are always a-fest
They inflict beneath my exterior, but for the public eye, I wear a crest
"I wear my skin well, don't you think?" I lie, becuase it ill-fits
I am totally normal, "I'm fine." Can't change the fact I'm a misfit.
The beams that bear my bag of meat rust and thus begin to weaken
The lethal sagging's caused by the mental luggage, I'm not heard, even though I'm speaking
Many persons think that I'm overly paranoid, I must admit, that I am
You would be the same way too, if about your health, no one ever gives a ****
Help doesn't come, because their 'laters' always becomes 'nevers'
I am not that superhuman, can't keep myself together, forever
They claim that they would help me, some way, somehow, but their actions never initiate
Someday, sometime, it would all be over, through a thorough death physical or mental
Oh yes, I'm still believing, you can't accuse me of not having faith.
I look forward to my healing, but all the while, my brain chemicals fornicate.
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 7:18 PM UTC
HaHA, I've done it! I've created a device
That can tap into my subconscious
and translate it for all to hear.
I will win the Nobel Prize!
I will be rich beyond my wildest dreams!
People will LIKE me!
So let's see here....I put on the cap, set the throttobombulator to 8.
Adjust for fuzzy dialation...set the circuit threshold to .79, make
sure the lucid translation synapses are firing...and yes. The next
words you hear will surely be written in History books one day,
much like Thomas Edison's first phonograph recording, or the
first telephone call!
Neural connection is active. Transmitting
**TRANSGENDERED KANGAROOS FORNICATE IN THE
PURPLE SHADE OF BETTE MIDLER'S THIGHS. PLEASE
PERFORM ******** AT THE BEHEST OF BUDDHIST
MONKS WITH LISPS. COUNT TO TEN AND BECOME
A BUXOM BLONDE ***** WITH BOUNCY *******
WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES TWELVE, CINDARELLA IS
ON HER KNEES AND ELBOWS BECAUSE IT'S ******
HARD TO GET LOW ENOUGH TO PLEASURE A DWARF**
Oh dear. This can't be right....now where's that 'off' switch?
**JACK AND JILL WENT OFF THE PILL SO JACK COULD
BE A FATHER. JACK WENT DOWN TO LONDON TOWN
AND PUNCHED THE DALAI LAMA. EDIBLE *******
GIVE YOU INDIGESTION. DO YOU KISS YOUR MOTHER
WITH THAT MOUTH, BECAUSE YOU SHOULD. (AND USE
SOME TONGUE THIS TIME)**
Oh My...Ladies and Gentlemen, It's clear that my invention
is experiencing technical difficulties. If you would please be patient---
**SATIN BRAS DON'T CHAFE. NONE OF THE SMURFS
HAD BLUE ***** THANKS TO SMURFETTE. I WONDER
WHAT MARY MAGDELINE WAS LIKE IN THE SACK? **
STUPIDSmashPieceSmashof GARBAGESMASH
DoNT LikE iT? tucK iT bAcK!!
Connection Lost
I...erm...clearly have some more work to do before it is ready
for the pubic--er..public. I have run into some...translation
errors...and need to re lubricate--CALIBRATE a few things.
Please don't tell my mother.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 12:12 AM UTC
A Softer Way to Die
We live and study life
We pray that somehow
God changes his rules.
No one wants to die
No one wants to follow
Those complicated laws;
I mean no lie-ing - no steal-ing
no *** - before marriage no
Fornicate-ing, no kill-ing
No lust-greed or defil-ing the earth.
Amen.
All we can do now is try to find
" A softer way to die".
Pick your battles...
There are many ways to die.
I asked, God why?
When mom threw a
"Monkey wrench" in my world
Answering - "We all have to die"
I immediately winked at God...
Thinking to myself ( not I) .
Gave him a little nudge;
Sidebar God : I said to God
Adamantly "I do not want to die"
"Can you change the rules "?
I never heard back from him
On that subject..
I went to him again
God "Can you at least
Keep me with a mom-
I said "So that I won't be an
Orphan like Shirley Temple" ?
He did get back to me on that
And Mom is Alive and well
Plan A. ( living forever)
Still not executed.
Once again contemplating
Thoughts on how I want to die.
I could not think of a pleasant way
To die, none that seemed appealing.
Nor any options that would be fun.
hmmm, eat myself to death.
Playing chicken with the train,
Might prove thrilling.
As time grew nigh
My thoughts continued
....On a softer way to die.
Childhood gone, middle age gone'
Old age approaching fast and furious
Destroying me like a sudden
Approaching hurricane...
This storm knocked out my lights
Memory gone now..
Forgetting my life- my loved ones
Forgetting my friends,
Children,and foes alike
Forgetting my wrongs - my sins
and accomplishments all.
Everything's gone. So now
What do I do ?... How can
I rewrite my life,Take account..
Of that which I remember not.
The realities of my existence
Has been wiped out from
The Forest Fires burning
In my minds eye.
Have no recordings of
Who loved me or of who
I shall never forgive.
How will I know that I ever even lived.
Taking my dark blank pages into
The after life- My shadowy
Existence ends. I feel no pain
I Have no thoughts,
Have nothing to contemplate.
For I have asked to live forever
Or that I die a,softer way
Forgetting to eat
Forgetting to drink-
Forgetting to swallow
Forgetting to breath...
Forgetting this life-
I close my eyes and fade away.
painlessly
© Vicki Acquah
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 7:49 AM UTC
Let me straddle your mind until I'm confined
to the empty spaces you refuse to acknowledge ,
taking hostage the inhabitants of this grand mental escape ,
I equate this mission to landing on the moon - you consume
every fiber of my being I intrude ,
wishing to know what you are thinking
it sort of ****** me off when you choose *** over celibacy
just assume it's my jealousy I'd rather have your mind than head
as we lay here in bed I listen to the breath that escapes the dark carven of your lips ,
you kiss me so softly with vocabulary I hear clearly how deep you crave me,
such a sweet sentiment from a sapio ******
someone who can fornicate my mental with intellectual ,
you eat out my riddles and digest philophosy
have me shaking feeling close to God see ,
we get bare naked to the truth
Exposing absolute equations and reasons why , I sigh .
Gagging on your brilliance
you present such increments of human creativity ,
swallowing your mysteries
stroke me close and slow
fill me to capacity with the knowledge of you
tell me the truth you love to **** me
with your words You encourage this insanity
This perplexing wet whirl of words gushes ,
and i demand to see the length of your lyrical havoc
I wish to kiss and grab the sensual sentences you string together
& nothing could compare to the pleasure when we intertwine our minds .
It's ridiculous how meticulous you are with my mental
we lay there , gasping sinful in sections of ecstasy
i watch you vividly , react to my melodic passion
i hold on - grasping my fingertips around your brain
you dig deeper and in pain i give you my vunerability
I .LET . YOU . FEEL . ME
speaking languages I forgot i knew
yet I know I cant dispute
our connection from confessing the truth
you sparked theories bigger than any bang
articulating art using slang
we decode out way of conduct
it was just pure luck we ****** through conversation
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 3:23 AM UTC
Alice and I were fudged fruiting inside Falstaffian freakish fleur–de–lys:
She inside a quack–aztec–tattooed tank,
Me inside a pendulous magenta harness with polydactyl–perverted plumes bespattered into it.
In the ****** **** of that kaput flophouse
We creosoted our conks all the cockatrices of the gorge–de–pigeon,
Inside crotches, Jacuzzis and homocentric Action Men.
Alice, with the pornographic bend sinisters in the teeth of her poltergeistish fajita crocodile,
Smacked of the plug–ugly poofter of a south–south–west by south sackful sandbank.
I cemented the jaundiced dangler of an ostrich to my prick.
With that and my uncut fiddlestick of knobs
I was the idiosyncratic and wholehogging sadomasochistic slapper!
We banged the bush streaming proboscis in tentacle
Through smorgasbords of hermaphrodites and high muck–a–mucks
While Ravi Shankar’s idioglossias and cockchafers juddered our titbits.
Our Moonies were classically cracked flabelliform by the time we disinterred them.
Alice managed to fornicate incognito white elephant on behalf of myself
And we were passionately on the back of the dingdong, naked as our Moonies.
We kept one’s pecker up wrapped up in the shadowgraph
Athwart ever-strangling girdles of formaldehyde, ozone, fomenter and widow’s weeds,
Athwart polytetrafluoroethylene–pricked precipices and then down to the butts
Where we both came to a sticky end on our jockstraps and leered at the ballet dancers
That we then penetrated rhythmically by elongating tumescent our gang banging tentacles.
Through comfortable French knickers I burped, “Thank you for ****** me everywhere, Alice”.
In the soporific honeypotspunk, aped on the ooze,
I could smell that her **** had made her ******* type soap flakes break the sound barrier,
Splashing out a ***** whale seed skirting her jowls.
“You’re fragrant, flypaper”, she rapped.
The Government gabble that little green men who hammer out the sexagenarians weren’t on board.
Inside spleen of the spliffs, inside spleen of my gangrenous Pollyanna, I will over one’s dead body evacuate.
I will over one’s dead body evacuate.
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 4:09 PM UTC
I garden naked
When one does not comprehend the places you've been,
Ignorant they name your path
Twisted facade, let's fornicate the law
Switch our curfew
Night is dark
Deep cryptic essence
Let no man take the massive ego, hiding in your stilettos
The ridge of the heel crushing the victimized windpipe
Polish and clean
Sparkling
Almost brand new
Steady, walk in progress
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 5:56 PM UTC
As the wind speed of mind increases, he loses weight
sees the clouds ethereal nearer and crowd in which
he too jostled like an imbecile, becoming far off dots
selfishness, greed, jealousy,pride, lust , avarice and violence
self-pity masquerading as love, all this still tie them down
some among them fornicate words, turn them in to ******
this happens for ages, but none has the power to stop the rot,
look at those mindless wonders that dance in **** we watch
in horror but pretend as if we are delighted, to keep the peers gleeful.
Don't you want a journey of your own through inner landscape
no more be a kite,begging for the mercy of those who pull the string
who fake ******* think something and pretend contrary to it, dupe.
"I am sky bound, levitate, a cloud heavy with sadness,still buoyant,
I would rain,when feel drained, assume the white cloak of purity.
I am the earth and fire,wind and water, limitlessness of the space"
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
Muslims are not to date.
But you've seen him kissing Kate.
Zayd, Khalid, Luqman don't care that ALLAH tells us to wait.
They flash their sinful pictures straight.
Without shame, a number of my brothers show children watching how to fake mate.
Selfish, self-centered, I do what I want to do is happening at a fast rate.
Most of them who date know ALLAH regards their actions with hate.
Persistence to do wrong, to fake date Kate, prevents them from moving in a direction that is straight.
Maybe their children, ones they were never told about would have entered the world as ******** late.
Maybe their done away with babies would have exited the world as ALLAH'S slaves who used Islamic knowledge as bait.
Before marriage it is said, I love you, You're hot; Kate steals these phrases from the role of a wife and uses them to increase her heart rate.
They share a bed and have *** but what they want not to know is that they fornicate.
A load of grave sins they accrue and a heavy punishment from ALLAH if they do not feel guilty, if they do not repent, if they do not end what they perpetuate.
Many practicing Muslim maids want not to marry them. Little do those who fake date Kate know that their actions likely got in the way of GOD'S good fate.
That their use and abuse of ALLAH'S fashioned female and a Father's beloved daughter, violates her like how a dog with his razor-sharp teeth on her arm viciously ate.
He and Kate with memories to relive the sores and bruises, the trauma and incidents of disobedience which cut off grace from ALLAH, The Great.
You're going to make wait late.
You're going to fake date Kate.
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 5:35 PM UTC
I honestly don’t think you deserve Heaven,
Neither do I…
As you fornicate with the seven,
I am chastised alone to cry…
Sobriety is a made up playground high,
God is some fun.
The Devil sees your love losing by,
For soon in time I will be done…
One by one the seven of lust will die too,
Leaving you dry…
What left of our lives tales told taboo,
No… we are not meant for the hellholes of so…
So lonely the soul never to you to know…
Feb 10, 2022
Feb 10, 2022 at 3:13 AM UTC
If it wasn't for my curiosity,
I would have never of sold the body of my love to the demons of the world for them to get intimate with,
for them to fornicate with.
curiosity kills,
but he was still the
sweetest
piece
of
sin.
I give it up,
I gave my love virginity away
to the seeds of Adam.
The ones that woman was made from the dust of
I need cleansing,
I want what I once had back
If I knew I would have never of
played in loves playground,
and this is all because
of my curiosity.
By Cheyanne Ntangu
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
My living disposition leads me to assert that I am not dead!
Yet, my silence screams ancient transcriptions across geographical contour lines which are considered to be far removed from the metaphorical grid of contemporary societal norms, where the seductions of the vampyre and her haunting dynamics cast their eerie spells within this captivating fishbowl of galloping horses.
The Prince of Wallachia is able to explain.
Let us converse with The Count.
Whenever there is emphasis upon specific detail in this age of certain vanity, I find that, in 1456, I am truly bereft of valedictorian and flamenco odours, because this royal prince of acoustic arrangement has generated a harmonious expression which humbly corrects my intrapersonal assumptions across the mountainous regions of Transylvania.
Conflict resolution is therefore a mere figment of sociological and anthropological constructs, which fornicate with the façade of egocentrism and fabricates vain attempts to maintain social elitism within a blanket of darkness.
How do we find ourselves in the position of being so diametrically opposed to reality?
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC
Sprung, from beauteous filth,
The lies and gradation of the un wed saints
Hung, from gracious guilt,
The death and oration of the un sung and faint
Led, from grounded earth,
The soulless narration of the unloved taint
Believing is all when your all is a lie,
The smell of defeat in the blink of her eye,
The way you never fail to surprise the easily shockable,
Revealing that all was a lie of your life,
The decay of a scent from the skirt of the pile,
The path you never chose to really surmise the unreadable, uncollectable
Paid, to believe this girth,
The salt and salvation of unborn wealth,
Laid, the solution of all their faith,
The untouchable wrath and indignation of lifeless whelps,
Said, to ears that deceive all truth,
The unsinkable feeling you and your friends try not to avoid
Swaying in time to a common hope thief,
The guileless age and her sense of relief,
I thought i just told you to leave love at the door,
Poison and ruptured the stale old lies,
A night of betrayal and blood on these tiles,
Faithless, inauguration a purpose that you belie,
Lover, sweet mother, joker, and harpies with scales combine,
Hater, sweet undertaker, all is within, a touch to cold skin and a world you can't deny,
Believers, my underachievers, fornicate how to the march of the rain, a lifelong ambition that's driven in pain, a rusty disease that you spread with a knife, a guiltless decision made by his wife, a turning old format that withers and screams, a breathless recognition, we all fail to grin, just wait on the inkline to say what you want, I’m turning these covers and buying the bought, ******* the sweetness to boldly deny, that all these suspicions were aroused in the night, a turning, a quickening, a life on the rails, this one ****** mess i can't wash from my nails, so thorough, so clean, yet so impure it's not true, i tried to remake what i thought couldn't be you, but all indication now points to my spine, the tossing and yearning beneath valentine, i am the weather that spoils your day, please hold my ears as she screams my name.
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 4:48 PM UTC
Lexical littorals illiterate foal
Talus and cirque shore and shoal
Iconoclast anarchy vortex knoll
****** matrix vertex peak
Semantic regalia flux and seek
Torrid allusions own and keep
Dichotomy paradox surge and swell
Primordial integumence purge and fell
Contiguity confluence dirge and knell
Reliquiae requiem show and tell
Accession assertion deliberative need
Transcendent ascension expiate seed
Subordinate ancillary exigency deed
Subliminal subjunctive sensorium seethe
Uxorious usury detinue blithe
Contiguous currency decimate tithe
Tractive proximity critical lithe
Delusory phantasm futurity kithe
Alacritous tactile acuity interstice
Accidence ambience resonance quipy pith
Scenario synopsis resilience gist
Endergonic protensive progressiveness rift
Prestissimo preterite retroactive gift
Poignant puissance piquant myth
Fable fantasticate legend list
Preternatural gesticulate proclivity pith
Propensity assimilate diabolical mist
********** fornicate zooidal mist
Parenthetical erudite erumpence fist
Quiescent gossamer lecherous wrist
Militant mercenary actuator aorist
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 8:04 PM UTC
A worthless instrument filled with sentiment
That is what I want to take
from when I thoroughly become benevolent.
I yearn a reminder of a version
Of myself where I don't have piercing eyes
Or a cold body
Or a stifling loathe of beings similar to myself
Or a need to curl up to a ball when pens *****
Ah fornicate this I can't write anymore
There's a hope buried in me
It multiplies like bamboo shoots entangling
It says grow thorns, be turgid
It says pop horns, stay frigid
I walk down the corridor constantly defying myself
I'm one character I think
Am I
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
When your life lies within the hands of crooked doctors and blood thirsty nurses. Who've made you too weak to speak out against the horrific experiments, they have conducted on you. "Professionals" That claim to be searching for a cure, to an already cured disease.
When friends and family can give you no comfort because, you're too doped up to understand any words of sympathy. Modern medicine can never help, the entire industry is infested with corporate criminals looking to make fast money so they have something to fornicate with later on this evening.
When the machines break down and you get trapped inside the mechanical afterlife. We will seek revenge against the mad men who did this. You will be found, no matter how far we have to travel through the circuit board. Your soul will be found before it is sent through the assembly line and manufactured into a techno logic ghost. You will escape the factory. I promise, you will never become one of them.
.
Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 6:11 PM UTC
Paralyze
Crippled youth decadent edification
Parental units fornicate prior to infantile animation
***** and left at the scene
Premature aged tragedy
Perceptive to the lessons of life
Based on adolescent obsessive observations
Thighs binding in the district of oral cavities
Physique constricted to paroxysms
Epileptic ear-piercing *******
Quivering leg hypothesis
Scream my name
Mechanical erotica
Spasm surrounding bionic limbs
Shrouded desires and ***** hallucination
High-quality with your skull banging into the headboard
Schoolgirl fantasy finished in chrome
Silver stream lined destruction
Nitro *** drive
Touch me
**** me
Use me
Blow me
I hate myself for this
Apr 24, 2011
Apr 24, 2011 at 10:04 AM UTC
The jury
nooses around their necks
deliberate
which is more pernicious?
my volatile explosions of anger
pent up frustration
boiling over with haste
delivering painful words
to her ears and heart
or
the child that is my heart
left unkempt
embarrassed in its neglect
for so long
anger came calling
an unwanted nanny
resentment in her bag
two spoonfuls a day
heaping
till love and hate
fornicate
producing a passive-
aggressive
"Beast of Burden"
one you can't nurture
or let go
... regret
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 1:24 PM UTC
Socrates asks too many questions
and so in Athens they give him hemlock
“Cheers! ” they say
and Socrates drinks to health
and he drops down dead
“Could I have one? ”
asks Citizen
“No, ” says the State
“cos if that’s the only kind of question
you can ask
we want you to stay alive
eat, drink and fornicate
and prop up the State”
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 3:41 PM UTC
fornicate
and lay back
asleep against the cold steel
heal your wounds with fire
limes are burning
lemons yearning
his fruit is turning into wine
mindless meditators
mediating madness
fundamentally flawed
raw and cored like apples
and hone(st)y
posthumously imbibed
nominal anomalies
rusted tire chains
as thunder complains
of its own ignominy
eyes awaken
lands are taken
and what's far worse
is that we have
all lost our voices
demanding silence
stem-cells signal sentences
denser than a dozen dollar bills
dancing on a pinhead
reprimand and then repeat again
the end is near
feet in fear move slowly
are you impressionable my dear
a glimpse of eternity
and your hair turned white as snow
suppress emotion
keep composure
learn to control
your own will
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 1:51 PM UTC
I sleep.
Hanging.
From a chan.
Delier.
I ***
To the chorus
Of fornicate
Voices
I pose
myself
At the mannequins
Femur
I sit
Inside
The emp.
Ty mall.
And watch
You ****
And slip.
It all.
Away.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC
Save your words, hold your breath, silence your swears
Thieves are upon us, stealing our prayers
No matter who, what, where, when, why
It's all the same, they don't care
Nothing is safe
No belief, creed, or faith
From liars, bigots, and sexists who use the bible to discriminate
Don't tell me you worship love when all you do is preach hate.
They repress our own nature saying it's "for God's sake"
Restricting each freedom, even just to fornicate
Saying love's only purpose is purely to procreate
But a man's love is only true if that man love's straight
Calling cancer, AIDS, and other heartbreak simply a blessing sent from fate
Man, that's some **** in which I will not partake.
Because we're all sinners deep down to the bone.
Though that's something you won't see written in stone.
The path of acceptance is the only one leading home.
Because we're all a part of the human condition
We all break when push comes to shove
We're all lost, searching for an answer
But I found the answer
and the answer
is to love
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 10:29 PM UTC
Carla said I must fast, no food, only water,
For the first three days of the New Year.
Your body yearns to have your mind in control, she told me,
This is the fatal flaw in all your attempts at happiness, she said,
If you ever stop searching for the source of your misery,
In a bowl of poutine or between the legs of an ingénue,
God this pathetic ability you have to impress young women,
Will you ever free yourself from the haste of ***
The burst and blinding flash of ******
I’ve seen you writhe and discharge,
Only to watch you tremble
And discover once again how alone you are.
Without ****** life is meaningless I explained,
And I watched the maple syrup slip, slide and curl
Into the center of my bowl of porridge.
******* Carla said,
If I lightly brush my fingernails up the side of your arm
You will shiver,
A faux ****** right here in this slovenly kitchen of yours,
*** in a carnival act, almost a trick,
Evolution isn’t your friend, she said, it doesn’t want you to think.
It wants you to **** and die,
To fertilize and retire
And so it offers you this cheesy reward,
An ****** an insult, in hopes you will fornicate and forget.
You have a mind, or a remnant,
Embrace chastity for year
And then thank me for the clarity,
Start with your fast, immediately, she said
Carla leaned into me
And picked up my bowl of porridge.
The sweet smell of syrup lingered forever.
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 6:23 PM UTC
Along the valleys of Llandegfan
Fluorescent lavish she glimmers
Battling arousal unyielding I strain
As the sweltering blood simmers
Fervid quivering she assigns
Peaking atop the apex of my spine
With each stroke swift I succumb
For this moment forever I've pined
Forgive my heightening appetite
Supplementary to my avid lust
Quite the unbearable sensation
Equally as hazardous to trust
In vivid colours may we flaunt
Fornicate to lecherous taunts
© 2012 (All rights reserved)
Jan 29, 2012
Jan 29, 2012 at 7:15 AM UTC