[to be named]
kneeling on carpet that crunchesand picking apart My cuticles,
wondering how much longer
tick
because My jaw is sore
and you taste like metal,
cheap motel soap,
and everything daddy
told Me to stay away from
tick
so you better warn Me
because there is nothing
in this scummy bathroom
that I want to ingest less
than your sour orgasm
boom
Poetry by Katherinee x
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Written on 2013-08-26 at 00:12
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Lawrence Beck |
Texts |
by Katherinee x Latest textsfaking itpack cancelled Conductive High Tide |
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