The two
animus fold
an ocular work of art
formless splendor; deeply pure
slide creeping; caught sniffing scented armpits

hands shivering
around the nape of your neck
meddling hair
acknowledge genial fondle

"I can barely... stop!
breathe
smother this swans noise
oh baby! the shit you do."
you're gotta to be my favorite thing
like Coltrane

continue to keep it flowing
pushing into the firmness of you
nearing the throat
you swallow; eye follow
kissing your apple; holding its flee movement

affixing elongated negro legs
coiling waist ; come night Priest
bury me inside
to be your sweet possession


© 2011 Lepadah