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Travis Green Sep 2022
I ache to embrace your warm, rock-hard nakedness
Engage in long, mind-numbing kisses
Feel spontaneous and vigorous bliss
Wet, passionate magic, sensual, carnal heart
Flagrantly fiery desirableness
Let me grab your sleeky meaty cheeks
Feel the speechless and stupendous power
Of industrial, irresistible, and unyielding machoism

Rub your expansive, seductive back
Up and down your bright mighty spine
Absolute royal gorgeousness
I feel your crushingly robust
And snow-white arms around me
Your deft veined feelers cleaved
To my bodacious baby busters
Tease my bright high beams
With your tempting tongue

Bewitching buzzworthy lover boy
Let me press my face against
Your ultra unstoppable and phenomenal pecs
Finesse your impressive crests
Trail my comely branch brown lips
All around your eye-popping macho abs
Give you exceedingly sticky kisses
As I peep at your dazzling dark blue eyes
Enveloped in your thundering tattooed muscle

I didn’t know you could make me feel this way
Make me so hung up on your crunkness
The magical meshing of moistened bodies
Feel your brilliant fervent radness
Crash into my fondly soft and warm body
Dreamy succulent fiend
I am so screamingly keen
On your splendiferous kingdom
Superabundant in stunningly fun-loving
And sun-kissed adventurousness

Let me nourish your prominent earthly grounds
Give your masculinity everything it requires
To soar higher into an unchartable up-market wonderland
Revel in your tasty masculine body hair
Divine mountainous strikingness
Feel your red-hot fragrant tantalizers
Caress my beefy bubble ****
Spread my flashy grabby *** cheeks
****** the backdoor of my guarded hotness
Finger bang my delicious concealed center
Compose crash-hot literary erotica
All over my sinfully silky skin
Send me into a mean wicked high
Light me up like a smokable hand-rolled cigarette
Jonathan Helling Nov 2018
art has
no discounts;
it creates habits
which you can't support,
it creates
leftover
cigarette buds
which are suddenly
so attractive
and smokable.
it cuts scars
right open,
makes them
ripe
for seeding,
it rots the seeds,
proceeds to
plant them
in any
visible sore
and then,
one day,
you're suddenly
decaying.

art has
no discounts,
only one form of
contract-
"sign here
to agree
to a lack
of food
and an increase
in the rate
of your
mental
degeneration".

art has
no discounts;
yet here I sit,
writing,
because there's
no
universe
without
it .
Natasha Apr 2015
I still have that little blue container
The one with the green sharpie heart on the lid
Full to the brim
Of the **** you grew

My mind plays
Through a brilliant scenerio
Where I open it
And the smell takes me back

To taking **** hits
While watching a live TV performance
Of the Gorillaz (my favorite)
That you recorded while I was at school

Or making hash with ice
Taking turns stirring
Until our arms got tired
Reruns of South Park playing for hours

Or when you came to visit me at college
And we went to eat at a busy restaurant
Standing outside on a busy street
You say "We can smoke here right?"

Or when I was in Japan
And you forgot where you parked
So you reported your car stolen
And traded my friend a joint for a place to crash

Or sneaking out to the alley
During breaks at our gig
And you getting so high
That you can't remember how the next song starts

It's been two years now
Since I've opened the container
It's likely getting stale
and becoming un-smokable

But I'm waiting
Until I can think about you without crying
Until the happy memories outweigh
All of this emptiness in me

But everytime I think about
How I'll never smoke a joint with you again
I realize no amount of time will stop the hurt
An no familiar smell will bring you back
wordvango Jan 2017
in the imaginations of people
I was there
the extraordinaire
the sitting sipping coffee shop watching
the young lovers outside try to separate
so hard in the dusky neon lights
the washateria lonely
an old woman folding laundry at 11 pm
as I sat outside rolling butts into smokable for a minute
fireflys
cleaning the ashtray out
the stalls of the convenience store
not even sitting down
so ***** even I the hobo would not
checking the Mcd's bag for fries
I found walking home at 2 am
the favorite of my memory
is seeing
on my journey
a guy at the grocery store
help an old couple load their groceries up
he didn't see me admire his charity.
Graff1980 Apr 2020
It’s a dark recollection
and all that I see
is a crumbling city
getting ready to
to collapse
on the scraps
of human vagrancy.
  
My car grumbles through
as my stomach growls,
a little less louder than
the late-night owl’s
party howls.

Got enough gas
to make it pass
the homeless guy
scrounging in the trash,

and beyond
the ***** blonde
drunk lady
looking through ash
to get as few
smokable butts.

I am doing all right
chasing nine to fives
to get by
and picking up
two extra
late night
shifts.

But the breaking point is
the mind I got
doesn’t fit,
seeing suffering misfits
brings me back down
to the heart of my history
when the hungry one
was me
and I would sleep
on a city bench
next to a slow street.

— The End —