he manipulated words with bukowski fingertips
thrusting his reality into my creativeness,
still flowing with juices from the original sin.
his pauses hid in my curves
and moans vibrated syllable’s stutter~
he quietly stared his sapphire firmament into my emerald ocean
spinning sunset upon my unblemished skin.
I begged for more,
and as his shepherd’s staff guided me to my knees,
he whispered the next verse into my void...
until I was inspired.



and for the gold. that means so much coming from an amazing writer like you 

I stand in awe of your mighty muse's pen... and I'm wishing you all the best in the contest!! 
















jk






61 old applause
