- Erotic Poetry
- Holding the Anarchist
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Be gentle, it's my first. Kileka
Will you see me here
among your obsessions?
What if I want you more
than this proper undoing?
Watching you pretty face corrupted by the dark mask of waiting,
For an answer that will never come with abating.
In this dark room
transfixed
by
flirtation.
Desperate for the feeling of your tongue filling my mouth,
hating myself,
hearing nothing but my heartbeat and shallow breathing.
Lust heating my insides, paralyzing me.
You taste the same as you always did.
Sing to me some more, it will drown out the screaming in my head.
Bite me
Harder
Rough hands on my tender flesh,
Gripping
Grabbing
I want nothing more than for you
to cleave me in two.
Turn high pitched screams into playful melodies.
It burns like bing fucked for the first time.
You flood my vision, I can't breath.
Don't stop!
Keep saying: I'm an Anarchist, Baby.
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