Shegetz
a sort-of palindrome
Nobody uses me anymore.
She lets arak pool beneath her tongue.
I wish I had a dick.
For her candid thoughts she dressed in & of lace.
The family owned a brothel of
stairwells, lined with pricks and twats in pale pastel.
If I did, I’d fuck in the ass with it.
Their prime customers were the staunch believers,
In all black, felt hats and overcoats.
They’d leave in a glaze of sweat, its tang quickly
mixing in the air as each passed.
.
It’s a headache premixing sin, as
its tit-zany vale geese quickly nag. What dale of
elk? A vast cabin of cold rats then
pierce trust, shiver below a cummer’s sheen & tire.
I did fist fuck. I wished it all.
Twin petals and a prick plastered stale. Within swills
a lonely whim. A robed theft of
grace & she descended. A sourish thorn of filth,
His kiwi had acid.
Lethe opal tears hung beneath the kooter.
My bed, a sonorous enemy.
About the Creator
Sean Balogh
A lover of soft cheese and delayed gratification. I prefer plants to people, more often than not. Most of these words should find a home among the compost but hey, at least I'm still writing.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.