Is it wrong to feel
A subtle twitch
A dirty itch
A raising brow
A stealing glance
A stirring in one's underpants
For fiery folds
Which have led
The horse to be a thoroughbred
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
The Whirligig of Monotony
He who dies with most the toys is, nonetheless, still dead.
Pikey Television's Author
Themes
- Bestiality (1)
- Cancer (3)
- Covert lesbianism (1)
- Crack (1)
- Death (12)
- Death and Cancer (1)
- Depression (16)
- Futility (3)
- Incarceration (1)
- Mongols (1)
- Passive aggression (1)
- Power (1)
- Suicide (1)
- Vegetarianism (1)
2 comments:
No doubt it was just the glance she gave you, for that split second, over her shoulder, as her mane was blowing freely in the breeze. How could you possibly not? No one will judge you, I'm sure...!
My first poem in 25 years
Won!
we met in middle years and
chemistry conspired in us just
as the cliche survives because
when we are one we are
won by lust
Post a Comment