How My Dixie Dares

Dixie dreams of blue men in tights
she likes to hold the bottomless bottle too tight
and when she's not looking, i douse her happily
with more and more sweet honey'd nectar
that makes her putty in my hands

but her flesh can't be conquered, my Dixie
and she sends me to fetch her some fletch of a man
some figure with protruding pecks and a meat cleaver
and i sigh, hesitate, but she implores
and to my Dixie with the red, red lips
i can never say no

i sit there, trying to absolve my sins in liquid fire
while she, no, while they, fuck in the back room
two beasts that will never cease to lunge for one another
and her cries, her cries, she cries, and Christ i can't help but feel
overwhelmed
i know, sitting there in the tiled kitchen,
her nails are digging furrows down his back
as he, as he plows on and milks her for everything she's got

this one doesn't have a name,
not like the last ones, he's inconsequential
i think, or, i like to think, but maybe not
sometimes i think she does this to torment me, but my Dixie
my Dixie's an innocent, she couldn't know
she's drowned too far into the crystal glass

our, no, her headboard cracks against the wall and i can hear them still
into the midnight hour, hour upon fucking hour
while they fuck, and i wait, listening to the sounds of their heated friction
the heavy breathing of the giant fucking my Dixie
his dark skin trembling with the energy she takes from him
how could she my Dixie
but i know, i know, she's been to the bottom of that bottle and back
that's how she can,
thats how my Dixie dares


Nyx...