Red lines
blood soaked flatlines
humping discreetly
underneath the skirt of words
teasing out truth tendrils
dribbling down the thighs of M's and N's
and the widespread legs of
the slut, A.

The ground drenched and squirming
with skin clothed skeletons
with budding pink flowers
with hard tips, hard tips
trembling tips
hungering
for a light
tap.

A drop by
the cafe of dark poetry
where Animals smile seductively
screeching their dirges shamelessly
quills erect, stroking endlessly
robbing thoughtlessly
lovingly
the virginity
of my slip
of hungry,
white
papyrus
.
.
.