deepundergroundpoetry.com
Vicky
I left a hicky on her neck.
Back in the city,
I wrote my number on the cheque.
Very risky,
like tempting Russians in roulette.
Plenty sticky.
Oh Vicky.
Chest of might.
Catch of delight.
Eye sight’s over-pleasured,
break my dyke.
Pluck the brains back of the matte black
barrel, left a crack in the bone marrow.
Narrow to the skin whack-a-mole with
her cherry, bluntly asking her to marry…
Hadn’t crossed my mind that instead I had to bury…
Dirt meet my shovel.
Flocked up birds lead the ruffle.
Hurt meat by the pound,
life’s on shuffle.
My Vicky,
Prized possession,
polarised obsession.
For whatever it’s worth,
I’ve taught life a lesson.
Back in the city,
I wrote my number on the cheque.
Very risky,
like tempting Russians in roulette.
Plenty sticky.
Oh Vicky.
Chest of might.
Catch of delight.
Eye sight’s over-pleasured,
break my dyke.
Pluck the brains back of the matte black
barrel, left a crack in the bone marrow.
Narrow to the skin whack-a-mole with
her cherry, bluntly asking her to marry…
Hadn’t crossed my mind that instead I had to bury…
Dirt meet my shovel.
Flocked up birds lead the ruffle.
Hurt meat by the pound,
life’s on shuffle.
My Vicky,
Prized possession,
polarised obsession.
For whatever it’s worth,
I’ve taught life a lesson.
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