When and Where. Lost maybe? or tommorrow...
Paralyzed soundless Hum of Deep Forest,
From some hidden cord of your Mouth.
Raspy, High, Raspy, Raspy
Your voice is sweetly molesting the air,
Creeping Numbness Squirms into my Hand.
And Then Something Else
Like a Tiger Clawing every Nerve on its Way to my Soul.
Like Giving Birth to God
In my Groin.
I Laugh Involuntarily and Sudden,
Green Eyes Turning to Daggers,
And Realizing, Harshly,
Flipping, You Start to Speak,
But I Slap one Numb Hand over,
And You Begin to Chew, Eyes Turning Hard as Jade, (And Maybe There’s Blood?)
But still I Do not Stop or Retract
And You look Like you Hate me for Half a Second,
But Then Its all Licks and Puppy Like
Rainbow Semen Fills the Air.
Outside the Neighbors Wash their Van
And a Dog plays with a Shrub of Some Sort…
(That Dog… It’s a Strange One.)
Copyright © Arthur Flockwhimsy | Year Posted 2008
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