Highlow Atrocious

HIGH\LOW ATROCIOUS Each thought of you inflates my head. Of it the monster it starts to feed you; Drops of venom by you, outside my body. My/your\mine incentive to feel a good kind of unpleasant, Em-poison-ment the blood at/my Command, red veins, losing my reins the pleasure precipitates in my Out-Law heart. Forcing my hands to descend In the places, which 'I' can'; you can't defend, My fingers, a replacement for your, touching my/our language. And places too sticky it has pictures of, shut\up. It'; The contact of S.A. be it is palpitating in your\my thighs to each blowing with high atrocious like Kris Kristoffer son-your constant teasing Your satisfaction goes away I'M; wondering whether you can feel this externally. My thoughts and their once your full capacity; where you are, Some pear holder outside, far away.