Choking on a Limp Stalk

The fault in your fault line is bolstering of fracture and trash. Trashy exposure of my nether regions, the fleshy blue and black death stick ready to finger cuff another one into the bind.

Grab a hold of my joy stick I proclaim; touch me in the way I want you to do so. Shove me down your throat, and choke on my external sore. Puss and soil fill your mouth, glug … glug … chug.

Don’t you love this? Don’t you want to be with me always? The eyes glaze with a lacking humanity, a tender life extending its appendages for rescue.

Be my spectacle and let me own your nudity; you are my raw disciple. The rump of dead sensuality, I bleak release into the stripped parade.

I mush the limp stalk further into your bosom. Glug, glug, chug.

Polished Plug

The fits are fitting, face palming the constant expectation of demeanor. Point they do, but thrive they don’t. They. They? They! 

Take her soils and exude the backwash through your hands. Hold me, or hold her. Hold us, while you salvage this life. Her discount was your sale, but the sail left your hope in fruit’s door. 

Now your ask is of salvation. Excrete your nature to grow her garden, in her garden. As the different parallels divide, the not established seed bears no grandiose. 

It’s a barren effort; the failure of expectation. The pits of yesterday’s laundry, smother all which you covet. Fill me and guide me, so I can release my bind. 

There is nothing their but fits of depression. Expectations to breath in clouds of carbon monoxide, failing through your own plugged pipe.

Pleasing Please

Travel well my passing sister, the last monarch of a congealed tribe well spent. Let the cruor run barren and take new passage, finding the truth to all that was meant.

His hand you have missed for ages, those moments of birth and development have gone by. The laughing moments of life’s hardship, for all this time has gone bye, and by and bye.

The talk ticks of borrowed time, no breath is guaranteed. Tick-tock, tick-tock, for this is the moment of grandeur. Funny how so many view this as limitless …

As the mind goes, it’s interesting how the soul can see. The stifle was replaced by more candor and humor. Your stories and jokes, now a piece of my mind, I hope you have peace of mind.

“Melina, I love you, God bless you,” she said. I knew it was our final meeting in this simulation. We simulate love and care, anger and displease. I want you to know, in this time, I care and you were the beginning of my please. I love you.