Dirty Old Man
J
James McLain
0
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Always a bun in the oven.
Swollen and fat it is dripping.
Puffed out the smile triggers a reflex
about or around often of.
The button I pull sucking I push deeply in.
Whispers I hear above the clear face
puckered lips.
The moon sits high in the sky it is open.
Knowing that people are there to watch
the pain form as it open stretches.
Watching you dream about the wall street walkers.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş