She dreams the aroma
Sweet potato bread baking in the oven
Awaiting the illustrious instant, the full bloom of her beauty
Sugar
Flour
Crust
To be munched by thirsted tongue and cheek
Taste buds groping every privy pillowed pocket
Porous soft sponge fills
And ecstatic crevice of pure cut cold hunger
Each molared morsel of baked batter is swallowed
Slowly to be sure
Every last drop of her enjoyed extremity is
Ravished Consumed
Loaded libido since
Potato peeled
Buttermilk boiled
Spoon stirred
Yeast yell in euphoric enthusiasm
S t r e t c h i n g sWELLing
Into her calescent curvaceous contour
Slow slips of steam sing her seductive siren song
Summoning only those under ravenous sensation's spell
To hear her whispering earful of erogenous exploitation
So this sort of made me sick to my stomach! It reminds me of the lyrics of every time I die, good, but hard to take in.
ReplyDeleteI love this. It makes me pay attention to the smallest details, and includes the emotions that if we aren't afraid of them, will be included in our observations.
ReplyDelete