I would play with her nipples...
Instead, she has decided to take a formless form...
Pervading anything rich enough for the eyes to see...
A texture that changes in an instant...
Tis but a tasteless vagina...
Yet full of nectar...
The sweet chirp of a bird...
The powerful bark of a bulldog...
She nourishes all like soil to seed...
Like grass growing out of concrete...
No laws...
No restrictions...
Just conditions that are beyond perfection...
Providing for the Lion to feed on the Deer's flesh...
He drinks her...
Nourished daily...
She travels like a vagabond...
The smoke from the cigarette...
She feeds the child his warm chocolate milk...
Her lips are sealed...
Her tongue is lost in the mouth of her lover...
In the hands of man...
She fondles herself...
A sweet breeze that can destroy cities...
Tis the same that gives birth to a patch of lavender...
Sometimes a crying child yearning for milk...
Sometimes a mosquito savoring blood...
Tis the sweet sound she bellows...
Caused by the intimate thrust of her lover...
An infinite stroke of the paintbrush...
Fondle her daily...
doM
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