Wiggidy Whack Don't Talk Back/ Happy Time

In and out of tempting    
interweaving passion loops    
over and under binding    
smooth smooches,    
   
sand and polish the    
burrs of a jagged ventricle    
maxim angles garnished    
for feasting eyes    
ample flesh festive    
fiesta feverish facade.    
   
Melodramatic hierarchy    
souse in a sea of pestilence    
hanging on to lucrative    
strands of my epididymis    
Golgotha strumpets    
prodigies of oldest profession,    
   
professor mistress    
receptacle of nucleus pudding    
gargle theoretic abortions    
recycling incipient skin-cells    
cataclysmic climax infancy lotion.    
   
   
Copyright © 2017 Quietusquill.All Rights Reserved.  
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Happy Time  
 
i rose from the  
tomb of flames  
stagnum ignis  
riding the pulsar  
thought frozen  
with shame,  
 
slip between  
the arrogant sigh  
quilted in the  
epiphany breeze  
of your self-defiling  
heinous polygamy,  
 
I'm every nerve ending  
in your fingertips  
every seraphic secretion  
that drips from your clit  
the itch that builds a kingdom  
inside every twitch with  
daemon giggles from  
lacerated lips,  
 
stand in all your glory  
hands clasped tied with  
claddagh knots of fury  
heart to heart split apart  
slivered ventricles of six  
before you are delivered  
to appease Belial,  
 
my caged pet dripping wet  
that's a peeve Greensleeves  
plays its melancholy hoopla  
punta please no need to beg,  
 
as serpentine lashes slash  
crackling cracks in a flash  
my little malignant gash  
think fast as I view crimson  
dreams seep between the  
crevice of your luscious cheeks  
stay on your knees ask this master  
if you are worthy to swallow his seed.  
 
Copyright © 2017 Quietusquill.All Rights Reserved.