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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Other · #1397246
Alcohol goes hand in hand with this kind of thing.
We hardly had to wait for this longed for
instant. Impatience in real time cut
shorter by Black Sambucca. Nibbled away
at soberity's lengthy manners.

Passivity was the moment before I
let you take the bull by the horns. Disolved
into you like a painkiller, friendly bliss.
My barely painted doll appealed to your soft toy.

Stumble back momentarily in love- kiss
indiscriminately on the way- delaying what we
hadn't waited for. Wriggle my toes free and
leave the mud on the mat.

Floruecent lights mix poetically with shots.
Two idiots fired up on proximity.
Searching for skin and skip straight to nudity.
Moaning, writhing. Bite.

Push back and disappear for the
vital equipment. But too much of just
one thing could never be enough- and don't
we know it?

Settle instead for your own satisfaction.
As always, all I am is a prop-
an uncomforatably honest friend
(benefits included my dear).

Wake up and stay that way. Watch the
day evolve slowly. Down a straighter tipple
and make mathletic excuses.

Scaper and flood with fuel and the possibilty of
a reprise. But then,
there is always Friday's double shift. Seek
solace, satisfaction. Live for the car horn.


© Copyright 2008 Sarah Coughlan (sarahbobhat at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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