Thursday, March 6, 2014

Conceal the Dispensed Meal

Brushing hair from the face, left with mouthful of -licorice taste, she seemed quite cold with white face.
Nothing from here, or there, to parlor -but parlay the way we seemed to lay, all limp and set a-splay,
she spoke not a word, as if to swallow-er.

From dip within I heard a growl-list, gritting sounding grin, or a ripple upon the pack dashing from within,
hard not to wonder at the blunder left so remotely assunder, yet closely upon her chin, oh I do so give in.

Wake oh wake, with eyes wide open, the bottles empty so do cherish the token - a cough! Now, now my dear we must be off, 13 steps of stairs, "Your cardio is good, no?" My Dear, you seem to sleep better than the trails underground of which boneless vicissitudes boundlessly keep.

Here, let me help you. Grabs a white left foot, a tad bit stiff, a smell of cinnamon on the windy wift. Across the room two-time a beat felt like stilts kissing planks dipped in milk of teet, hard to tread-like floor feels of watery-sandy-banks, wrapped in electric coated eels. Oh how times like these do bring thrills.

The door a thrust with jar and shoulder, I told you my dear, "You must roll over."


My dear that diet of yours must not be working, it is causing me all this intensive jerking, although last night I did rather enjoy your fiendish twerking, for I have never seen a double-halfed moon stir and shake outside thine holy pantaloon of extreme size of bounce and quake.


Step, and pull.


13 times later, and a stare down the stairs to the castle dirt below where only we hide and share, as if only to psychically say, "BEWARE!"

Once, I had intended to plant a garden here, although there is no light most of the year, but in this lower cave, it doth make me feel a queer at the sheer thought of you never leaving. Now, where are my instruments for the cleaving. Pfft, I'll just dig a hole -or did I, or, was that something to which you were already invited for? 

I do hope you find comfort here below the sordid floor.