Romantic liberation 

Exploring the epiphany

A man writes his sweetheart from jail…

‘ Baby you know, behind these shallow bricks I can still smell the spiced moon…

my cell doesn’t have jazz music in it…but the boots and the blazing whips make up to it quite prolifically,

I miss your sweet little vagina, I miss it mostly when I touch these primordial iron rails…

Come and cast your brown wet hairs over me for one last time…

Come and loose in my erections for one last time.’

The prismatic lady replies…

‘ we were always inside the fish bowl…we leaped, we fought…we fucked beneath this soil…we have done effervescent trips of joints…

we have always been two translucent assholes,

Come meet me for a trembling bonfire…we will have intercourse from your cosmic celling.’

The man brings romantic death after that…he is going clear for the last mortal juncture.

And I was still listening to the…

View original post 7 more words


Categories: Featured

Reply At Your Own Risk. Leave The Dumbfuckery At The Door.

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s