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.