I have a lover who runs
away f r. O m my own
the ink bled so she runs
my reposed prose dead
but her. A quick feet contains
the voice I have somewhere
in my cellar brain attic heart
I touched her skirt tonight
to morrow I feel her breast
and rip out her letter-mind
I shall eat her until she cums
(Comes) inside my factory wordsmith
–> heart

:: 07-03-2014 ::

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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