My ethics have all the resilience of moon dust. As I wait feverishly for you to stroll by. You are the voluptuous subject of my lust; A bright red candy apple that caught my eye. I want to speak to you but my brain has been smote. Pathetic creature living in his own coffin, Choking on words as if strangled by a garrote. My eyes become misty and your features soften. A peace dove flown into the war of my life; I lust after you as salacious salvation From a frumpy, neglectful, overweight housewife, But, then this is all in my imagination.
Posted on: Tue, 25 Jun 2013 07:50:38 +0000
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