PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

He said, “She comes down upon my tongue and her garden grows fruits and flowers in my mouth. Big thighs, pale flesh with all the dots and dashes and carelessly cropped hair follicles. Big buttocks, sweet cheeks and tiny brown asshole nestled like the great eye at the center of a universe of flesh, skin. Her body makes me feel like a fallen god. Swollen labia, mons streaked with sweat and saliva she twists and gyrates on me, in her own little hurricane, flowing blood and cum wells up like a ten thousand foot wave and I am a sandcastle on this beach where she lays in the sun of ecstasy. Sweat like rain gathers in her ditches and valleys, pulsing pussy grown red with heat and desire. Long legs, thick like Grecian pillars end in small toes, dangling, hovering, forcing their way into my open mouth and down my liar’s throat. Beneath. Below. Under. She stands with her painted foot upon my neck and makes me kiss the underworld. This is where I will always belong. Over. Above. Atop. Her nudity radiates light and transfixes me in its earthly glow. Pillow breasts and watercolor nipples; lovely round hair belly consumes me and shimmers with health and desire. Crawl to her. Kneel before her. Stoop supine like a perverse penitent and kiss her ankles. Anoint her feet with spit and pray for forgiveness. Lie in the cold and dark and wait for the crack of the light. She enters, drunk on wine and laughter and life. Over. Above. Atop. Lie in the cold and wet until she turns on the water. Gallons and gallons of girl pee. Beneath. Below. Under. I am a drain and drink greedily, while the reverberations threaten to bring my body crumbling down. Bathe together. Hot pink skin is indistinguishable underwater. No sense but touch. I rap at her stained glass window until she opens and I am as deep inside her heavenly house as I will ever be. My automaton body moves to a sound I can’t hear, only feel in monstrous frequencies that resonate inside bones and shake loose screams of ecstasy and terror. She bites and I bleed. She gives and I receive. Six hundred more lashes just for a chance to inhale her smell and hold it somewhere in the holy parts of me. Beneath. Below. Under. I survive on the fluids that drip from her sodden hair when her sex star rises and the season of the sacred mind fuck begins. Pagan ghosts dance in our minds as she rends my flesh and heals it with her phenethylamine mouth. Over. Above. Atop. She strides the lonely streets like a Titan and loses me forever in the cleft of her ass. The oceans may rise and the earth may swallow our city in its molten maw, but she owns me. At least for tonight.”