Saturday, July 11, 2009

A poem composed by blacking out words in a trashy romance/action novel

Filling her cup.
Not that I'm grateful
Should have offered his bed.
Sorry about that
A little drawn.
Why would someone want to skewer you?
What sort of shit
between her hands,
legs curling,
mouth went dry
between her thighs.
...Oh, she was talking again.
She feeds it,
tucks the fucking thing into bed at night.

1 comment:

  1. This reminds me of that dream I never had....
    "Oh, she was talking again
    She feeds it,
    tucks the fucking thing into bed at night"

    I get a different feel every time I read it

    ReplyDelete