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Back From You

Back From You
By kennethcook on 06/08/2012
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You found me in May. As you tried to impress me with your trip-hammer-quick mind, and your tragi-comedy life-story, I merely flashed a nominal token teeth display towards your deeply pocketed, dark, soulful eyes, while you stoked the passion fires of my libido; my own blind eyes not registering the goddess statue being created from my skull, by your skillful, experienced sculptor's hands.

You had me in July. The broiling sun made dizzy my sweaty head from grey-hazy humidity, as I panted from the ignorance of my own causes. Your dark spirit had bonded to my frail ego, and your face had embossed itself on my weak, but quick-thumping heart, as the black, shining stone of infatuation blasted my brain, and shattered my skull.

You fused with me in September. Warm night of chopsticks and old movie-disks. You reached out a pale, trembling hand, which I consumed with sex-hungry fury, and long-suppressed desire unleashed, as you spread yourself wide as a fleshly drawbridge for my aching, panting entry into your dark, pungent cavern of slippery, pagan treasures, emptying myself of months of slimy-sticky, hot life-stuff.

You destroyed me in January. My broken, borderline-sick brainpan crashed down onto your equally-ill head in late evening skull-shock, as I spent my sick spleen in a pent-up venting of the myriad years of my crippled past. I projectile-vomited red-black fury into your ears!
You cut me off and out with light-speed, in human defensive, woman-mother, she-bear reaction. I was obliterated, leveled, emptied.

I came back from you in May. The perfume-laden flowers drank the sweet, silver rain, as I finally purged your dark, icy image from my twisted bowels, and your red, fiery grip from my tight, constricted chest. My liberated, yet fragile, shaky heart, and free, yet lacerated spirit belong to me, as I complete the dark night of my sick soul, and finish my return to me; at last back from you.

By kennethcook On 6/8/2012 2:42:12 PM

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