Soliloquy of the Nude
From brothels behind the brother's home For men(worth a whore's heart) Your lordship's denial of the worst situations lining the caverns of domesticated faith hide behind bushes of low life and heavy girth,parchment paper and the navy blue blob of darkness whispering destruction. Propagation. Dilapidation of principal fundamental technicalities of handsome donours and bottle caps worth a hundred cents. Ductility of your muse and the musings of your ductile nudity that you lie with at the end of my stories,holding my hand and everything else that you can grab under the blanket. My hair,torso,tight breasts. Don't stop. Fuming incandescent hostility reverberate through my cry. Heave. Make me. Your subordinates did it, too. So did my father. And the brother I got from him. Feathers stuck on me like the left over from the dinner on the decorated table top. Can I be your sparkling wine? I guess not. Just fragments of raw meat huddled together on your bed sheet u