Jack's Twisted Kingdom
the leather threaded rope twined at the ends, perhaps an
allusion to the erstwhile havoc played upon by wretched
circumstance. naught for a small time playing with those
cords, twirlling them around my fingertips and breathing
in her soft sweat sheared off her heaving chest, droplets
cascading across the breadth, the saline scent wafting up
and hitting the note, that succulent beat of tempestuousness
that rallied around my glided cage in tantalized light and
faint whispers echoed throughout the nights end.
all things in good time. a breath, a kiss on the air, the
cheek does remember, those lips pounding with abated gossamer
wings, the trumpeted triumph of jack booted heels on the bare
concrete vineyard, droning on in succession, stepping over the
edge broken glass in copper arced frames from windows torn
asunder by fingers so bloodied from slashing against hardwood
steel doors and that doe eyed look, those lilting pouty lips,
that casual gait, walking her long legs towards my introvertable
self, my lusting apparitions, and my erogenous core.
I am an end to my selfish zeal, a slave to my desire.