Tags
beastly perversions, cranked, erotic poetry, finger fucking, i'm spilling more thank ink y'all, poem, sonnet
“Twenty minutes,” you gasp, dropping the phone.
“Beastly perversions,” as your dad calls this,
take time. This is just, “d’baw-chuh-ree,” thrown
in high gear. All that drenched, languid, “sk-hiss,”
rhythm we love gets cranked. Fury cums, it bursts,
leaving us sodden, like prayer. We all pray
in our way. I pray in you so these thirsts
and greeds might slow. No. Climax is doomsday
postponed. Once again that damned car pulls up
and I pull out. Once again we scamper
to get dressed. “¡Sodomite!” your dad christened
me. True, I swing both ways but I worship
with you. Love takes time. In prayer, however,
we cum like feral gods, fuck like legend.