Lust Is The Prettiest Car Wreck

The visuals in this come so thick that I am tweaking out in word-nerd. Like what the FUCK? You're going to make us all pack our shit and skulk off to the Rock-o school for non-talented fuckfaces.

She’s a bass slap suicide
::OMG this is so viscerally delicious::
 
clothes melt into a puddle  
her body a slow motion car crash  
::you are writing cinema in prose, and holy-hot damn::
 

to trace the calligraphy of her name    
etch it into my skin    
::the touch-them, so much skin on skin -- crash, slap, trace, etch, melt::

so when we disconnect her memories are as fresh  
::NICE -- the plot thickens. A new angle::

the Ferris wheel spins slowly  
::scene change, and a cool one::


slides my hand under her short skirt  
::but same skin-skin theme::

lust is a funny thing  
a forrest fire in trees that  
(typo alert -- forest -- it happens to everyone, it's not you)

have been dry for centuries  
:: dry for centuries is awesome::


try to paint her portrait with  
my cock  
her hips sashay    
drag me under    
a spell of dirt and sweat
::again, a jump-up and throw something at the screen moment, because there's this heavy need, a reverence, and then it gets a little dirty. The juxtaposition is badass::

she bonnet surfed    (LOST IN TRANSLATION.... the fuck is this? I'm from Florida, we like, ride alligators and eat people's faces after snorting bath salt. What's this?)

I manage with one hand  
her nipples slide beneath coarse fingers and    
pretend she’s my instrument    
play like I’m the sleazy Bassist  
fingers dancing on strings  
one hand curled around the neck  
::the repetition is heart-pounding, the deliberate continuation of touch, skin, and then slamming the reader with hands is goddamn lovely.::
 
find myself chugging chlorine  
with a brake fluid chaser  
::YAAAAASSSSSSS::

I’m tongue tied  
spilling drinks down the front of my shirt  
 
chemical romances blast holes  
in self control  
she stirs my blood  
with a blender leaving me frothy  
and thick    
waiting for another dose  
her scars taste like cocaine bingeing  
my bloodied nose  
leaking  
 
wondering when the  
incendiary substances    
I drank  
will explode

:: I can't fangirl enough, it's brilliant. The execution was exquisite. You had four different scenes and you managed to maintain the integrity of the theme::

Hell yeah! You go on with your bad self

This is one of those comments that’s better than the poem, I want to slap it’s arse, dress it up in the finest lui-Vuitton and frame the fucker.

Thanks for diving in deep and extracting the gold from the dirt, I’m a wordy bastard at times, my story teller and poet often hate fuck each other over what’s what 😅