Friday, March 27, 2015

The tock of heels against this concrete floor, mimicking the most demanding of clocks, forcing your
ears to accept it, it shouts like a child. The tick of your breath when a hand slides against a valley of thigh and you think, "this is what the sand must feel each time it's licked by the tide". You've never been good at refusing the ocean. A tock, a revolving door of "okay" and "a little more", hers were the first lips to taste like Russian Roulette and you wanted to hear that click, to make her sink deeper than your tongue, the tock of heels, the bubble expand in your chest when everything is sinking. In my dreams, I am often consumed. In my dreams, I am a piece of gum snapped between her teeth.

I will steal every grain of life and heat it into glass. I refuse to be anything
other than magnificent. Push a head down to worship me, I will stain the entire

No comments:

Post a Comment