a poem called forward

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
na.

Submitted: July 21, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 21, 2012

A A A

A A A


horny adults

sweating in a public room

publicly displaying

what they think they can

flaunt

(all the possible tricks in

their trick bags)

doused in perfumes/colognes

strutting their stuff

speaking with wit

speaking of their

accomplishments---with

sex on the mind & an animalistic

heart---

pumping blood in the veins

like a thousand wild horses

trampling & galloping

o’er the countryside

whilst the red sky at night

casts the hottest Summer

passions

down

down

down

below---

and so,

the humans come

aggressively at each other

(more so than they might

at any other given time during

the week),

to mix & mingle

to rub up against one another

“accidentally”

(like a cat gliding against the

wall, but with sensual intent),

to make each one of these

minutes of the witching hours

count,

for this is the time

at which we are most aware

that so little actually

distances us

from the true beasts

within &

no one wants to wake up

tomorrow morning,

unless they are covered in

the juices &

nectars of

another.


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