hump the kisses
the cream you butter
from rancid dreams

and that snarl pulled
like Lucifers loose button
at your crotch

steamy metaphors shoving
limbed wheeled tracks
all those whom became
ghosts

swallow your fucking pride you
pointing the automatic
against my temple
how I worshipped
the cracker jack treat
the brokeness under the
heel of night

stitchs are for bitchs
thirty sics across your
face
turned away at the right
time
the night time crime
like a wave

little black gloves and spells
said you liked the feel of
warm shells

and how the darkness glides
and slides
like a knife
sharpened with stars