I watch you fuck him through
The crack in the door
Your sliver of mildew pussy slobbered
Up with slime, and his half bent
Cock sitting comically up in the air,
Bobbing like a stormed up ship
Every time he coughs and hacks up
His smoked out, burnt out lungs.
Your tits wobble precariously
Above his head as you attempt to
Ride cowgirl, your orange cellulite thighs
Slapping against his hairy legs, curving a
Heartless,shameful 'O' with that slit for a mouth
That has dredged up slobber for every
Disease ridden, prostitute laden cock
Attached to the hollowed out souls of town.
She thinks he wants her badly
The way he writhes beneath her weight, coughing
Vaguely her name, although it could be
Any girl's pussy, any fuck's body he's holding
Any girl's little girl knickers he's got pushed
To the side so his throbbing dick could enter
But she's 22 years a harlot, and good at her game
And he doesn't have the heart to find
An A* woman, in a land full of Z's.
YOU ARE READING
Black Coffee
Poesía"Normality is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly"- Anon. In life we tenderly bloom, slowly shrivel and then die like flowers. This small collection of poetry reveals human emotion from a number of different perspectives...
