Tags
a devil's reply, demons run when a good man cums, morphine, noise, pills, poem, Poetry, sonnet, the seventh son of a seventh son, vodka
your lips slightly bruised kiss the demons run
when a good man comes with primal urges
with a seventh son of a seventh son
with your mama’s blessings on your curl-fuzz
your first pubic hair your first change bad boys
who say stay away taste these crimson lips
you can’t help yourself and the noise the noise
of the rough bite on your bottom your hips
suck you are your fingers in I know I
know it’s serious more than metal fills
gag your throat hard next time both of my thumbs
to bruise your first curl a devil’s reply
to one who consumes vodka morphine pills
consumes everything when a good man comes