Speak!
Speak!
You cry
a spicy tournament
wet with emotional gibberish.
I taste of genuine word
that burns your tongue
soaked in tears.
And yet
Alone
you cry.
The Rain
In the sweat from the vulgar embrace
of the tight grey air
And a melting earth,
(wet with footprints
of men who drain out
their sinking
desirous fire)
Bacteria mate,
Sigh in pleasure,
But more in mockery
Of a man and woman
wondering if they should kiss.
Frogs impatient
,screech through
a million waiting minds,
growing lustful in the wait until
it rains-
An orgasmic illusion
Which glides them to a morbid sleep.
And when they awoke,
The wait was more intoxicating than the lust
And again
Frogs screeched and groaned
through their freaking minds.
You become the wetness of the soaking earth
As the lovers drops drop like spears through you
you are impregnated ,with
a dead child
Whose cries will haunt your womb,
when you know the commotion at your genitals
was the puddles overflowing,
Just so that you are drained tomorrow noon
So that he can come again soon
And
torment and love and cry with you.
No comments:
Post a Comment