- Erotic Poetry
- You Tell Too Much
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Bought me lunch. We chatted up bullshit. Rather I babbled and looked long and deep for confirmation. She turned her head. You tell me too much. Stop telling me. I do it to shift the shank to the gut a bit to the left and back. We held hands. I never want to drive again! I asked you if it felt right with him. There was nothing else outside in the moments of flesh on flesh. Nothing mattered except the generated heat and promise of pleasure. Abandon. The third twirl with death; rolled over each other standing up. You tell too much. Don't ever speak of the boy from Austin. Perfect clefts in thin blood and skin. She says she's dreaming of him now but does not speak the dream. He is everything you're not and you are everything the other one is. Not now. Please. Not now.
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