Poem for h on whaling.

in your exes room
or better yet
that dining table is stable soon
let our utensils be our harpoons
our choice of words savage
erotic while impulsive
our hands
dictators of our
choice of words
cause savages
are slaves to their hands
pigs are slaves to their minds
we’ll get out of this alive
is my thought or lie
lie down rest remain prone  
gives you back massage
fuck till dawn
dawn to dusk
dusk to rash
rough seas be
the woman in thee
my woman to be
helen of joy

On Whaling Erotica

2019-10-08 11:27:28 -0500 -0500

Other Logs: