The orange decadence of the spectacle assaulted his subtle stick which quivered and drew the bow to fire an arrow deep into her flesh which tore and peeled from bone and hip and back and spine and rib and stick slipped and shod the very flesh ‘till all that remained was muscle bound red ribbed.
Lick lips.
Paws clawed slide ‘neath the flesh and nail doth gather the fat which in time he sucks like marrow from the butchered lamb.
His groin doth stir rising upward to snake her spine and lick.
Meanwhile, her bow strung with the hair of bastard children bends the gut of her cello.
He slips his hand clawed ‘neath her spine and rips her soul. Kisses It.
She bows the gut of a thousand kids strung on the body of a Henry Ford.
00.03hrs 21 October 2010
(c) David Blank 2010
0 comments:
Post a Comment