A heretic grin
interlaced with longing
Ferocious need danced behind barren eyes
Her poise
Thunder clouds and electricity,
lead me to believe in her gospel of sin
Where it not for her blithe commentary
fornicating in the sea
under stars
against incidental walls
I might not have chosen this bestial path
Eyes shut
Mouth taste free
Skin cracking, lacking soothing lubricant
Verbs worked their magic
I performed, as she suggested
Hinted
Sighed
Proposed
Burning vowels propelled each thrust
Sinner who was a Saint
Worshiping
Idolizing
Fondling
Physical glory
Hedonistic behavior my own
Pleasure points of deception
etched into the surface of time
Seeing
Sensing
Seducing
My quest for consumption continues,
unabated
Demons laugh
The devil delights
Flesh burns bright
smells spent
Tastes salty with a tang of regret
Hell is on Earth
Mistress of ceremonies,
some say that I am wicked
Photo Credit: Aimanness Photography Flickr via Compfight cc
WOW.
Love this, wild and wanton one…..xoD.
Wow Julie! passionate and profound. “Hell is on Earth,
Mistress of ceremonies,
some say that I am wicked.” sounds like a lot of fun to me!
**Burning Vowels**
Yes, they are, Julie!