Aphroditie and Lancelot. (Oh... How good are you.)

Highest point of the night,
Swiping at my card,
Grasping at my lips, my jeans, my cunt.
My wallet couldn't be further away;
The little pills I need to feast upon are too much for me to bear!

This raw dick grazing the insides of my lustfully inclined soul.
(call me vulgar all you wish,
But you sick bastards pray that I'm the dish
You sink your fingertips, your mushroom tip and tongue tip
Into.)
It's so hot,
It's so warm,
It's so strong.
Compared to my weak and pathetic craving of his thick long cock.

Am I reduced to this?
A wanton woman of carnal glee?
Or am I love-starved?
Fiendish intentions are clawing at my back.
The base of my brain, BURNS
For this delicious phrase of Love.

Whisper your sweet nothings down my throat,
To the swell of my breath,
To the arch of my back,
and down into my heart,
Like the sweat that pours from your face and
The palms of my hands.
Kiss them like pearls
FEAST on me as though I were your last meal!

I need it.
Your love, like a coke-head scrounging up for change.
make me yours.
devour me.
eat this soul wrapped in cashmere sheets of skin.


xx