, , , , , , ,

Slick from a randy varmint, your nipples

swell in your strappy tee as I watch you


take the pills that we found on the motel’s

bathroom floor. You taste just like witch’s brew,


rancor, a chloroform soaked handkerchief.

Ill pills freeze time then turn our lust heinous.


You are the color of storm and I grief.

On your back, your head lolls off the mattress


as I grind in. Your throat bulges, jaws twinge

as my balls smother your nose. You gag-retch,


spitting cum, bile and ache down your forehead.

Fuck fiend, you called me, words that made you cringe,


once … like love, or every time that I stretch

you wide; an act that you both long for and dread.