Taut (Trimming the pluck)

She gorged her smile on me,
Her gums almost pubic,
As pimples swooned onto her satin skin.

The lips were zipped up by the ripeness colliding and whirring from a ten year old plant.

I took her star mixed hand in mine,
Ran my fingers down her wrinkled mosaic palms,
Serenaded the liver spots piling on by the minute with my soilent teeth.

I grabbed her arm,
A gorilla's 3rd motive,
And dragged her to a one room apartment,
Squinting at me with prune moist eyes she garbled:
"Lust me in a way I can endure softly,
Pasteurise my layers of dead skin onto you,
Above the salt and skidding senates,
There is but a little boy,
Waiting for his handbag lips to finally be sealed."

I took the crack of dawn in my stubs,
To be introduced by a tape worm as it's faeces churned over my shoulders,
It slowly trailed down leaving thin brown marks,
And I shed a tear,
And gurnard:
"It's a preset augmentation,
I will goosebump over your potent stench,
Like a horsefly to a picnic blanket,
I am absinthe."

You see me unrequited and you chuck my left handed scissors into my shagged rug.

A sunrise appears and my invincibility becomes a red light,
I follow the sign into a young charlatan digging a hole,
I stare deeply at him slowly running down his hairy cheeks in my hand,
They remind me of you and I sigh,
The number of the Python is "1989".
My lollipop is the flavour of genitals like you said,
So I can know what you have to deal with.

If only I was able to drown in condensates' light before the day ends but your fungi chin beckons me.

And I wanted to throw up,
Over the balcony and upwards,
It was...well...odd.
When I was able to will you as a fretboard and slowly ruin you.
I didn't need a metaphor to hide these feelings,
It's when once again as a cliché poets underline their words and with a pause unbleached their guarded skins and say:

"I fucking love you."