In calm lewd reasoning of brisk foiled seasoning, table condiments mildly disperse in rally. The forthcoming evening. Chicanery of brown parchments, in deciphering crude abandonment. Whether dismal folly or diapering lolly. Harsh flavoring between a brass violet bowl of tart pears. Keep your passion heated onto frail climaxes. Lilacs in early awakening of Autumn. Who walked the well-lit hearth of furnished hallways? Damp rupturing soil that intertwines the withering root of blood oaks.
I've touched torn lips, tongue to salted tongue. In obtuse flesh bulbs, cypress leaves press toward indigo streets in knitted seams. Sew your lace in thwarted streets, your thrown sash in coiled heaps of broiled greenery. Beatitudes, carnivorous daughters, barefoot and crimson. In the marrow of the morrow, shed bone, then muscle shell. Skin, and cartilage, a promiscuous marriage.
Mouth girls, pale and disheveled, your lawn is sorely leveled. Ancient fornication remains precise in ivory corpses, embalming fluids ascend up your scarlet blouse in the simmering heat of domestic chivalry. I mount the marble staircase agitated, irate in majestic undertones. Flower boy, your seed is sourly and nimble. Stop gawking at the young doe, remove the thimble from your upper-lip. Go hang yourself in the morning garden, adjacent to the quaint and remote courtyard. Dress for supper in masterly chambers, adorned in the sovereignty of well-decorated garments.
With her teeth in her mouth, and my hand on hers. Appallingly misplaced in stale attics. We went digging one midnight through dirty and dusty cardboard packages. Cobwebs and spiders lurked on the fiberglass floorboards, then a motherly Navajo, with maternal and homely turquoise beads assembling the width of her tender throat. Midnight passagways to China. In somber moonlight, we gazed out onto an iridescent playing field of glimmering verandas, antiques, and terraces. India is succulent and vulnerable, now go fetch me a tumbler.
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