I'm spending ten minutes per wee
just to hang out with him,
which is a lot of time
in a person's day.
It's a dirty kind of lust:
one of pleasurable grunts
in hidden dark corners,
subterfuge and coveting.
He either makes the profane sacred
or the sacred profane,
I'm not sure which,
maybe both. But I do know
this dead man reaches
down, into my guts,
dragging my heart with him,
messes around there
makes me moan
oh yes thank you god
for this
and I want more.
Yes... me too... fabulous tribute xx
ReplyDeleteAh, thank you dear one. He really is juicy soul brother with words one simply wants to gobble up :-) xx
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