Paranoia

Would you reconsider flesh of mine to grace that warm exquisite folding (cursed upon the monthly moon that lines the inner you with blood) in synchrony atop the shaking making love Are we not a house of mansions? I’d swallow your presence assimilate anew another woman just for me to see you through should inner shards of reconsideration dare to claim denial I’ll be your path to trial: in isolation primed for cold obliteration You would not dare for after all I know you care about your arrogance – the weight of breast BULGING – prideful glands that seek out the male promontories up to raise their temperature You are the ruins in naked fall you must recall Pull in your legs and be prepared; I shan’t deny You have to die And how I’ll cry For THEM! Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2013