Tag Archives: fucking

What Fits There?

And you ask, My bleating bird, My unwashed sparrow – What fits there? Your hand, A stone, A promise, A cold steel ball, Words on paper. I want it all, Anything and everything, I feel the shape and volume of … Continue reading

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What I Want

You are making wings on my back, The spread of the sound of the force so hard, And I can’t really think at all, I love my flesh being molded by you, Then the whole of you laying on me, … Continue reading

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Starshine

Walking home from fucking you, Stars fall from the evening sky, Each step is marked by light, As my feet move from fallen star to fallen star, The golden stars lying brilliant on the sidewalk, They cushion my sadness at … Continue reading

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Seven — If You Count the Dwarf

  This hasn’t been a good three years for fucking, And by seven, I mean seven times not seven people, And my definition of “fucking” is somewhat broad; Would I do it at a cocktail party? Would I do it … Continue reading

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