the kitchen tile talk

what so a dreambearer great taunt lips long fingers feet on the end of the sofa so clean -oh, damn fine clean- and washing hair and wiping down counters and so on and so forth i thought of pressing her against the kitchen tile floor and sweeping my mind across her pale cheeks (not so pale sometimes) and careful, a suckle at her neckline raising her skirt, belly button criss-crossed with tiny fruit kisses barely on the skin at all and she smells so good like cleanness and purity and suddenly, i want very badly to make her, there, unpure -unclean- new goddess statue and pulling the curtains down from the window shed some light on her skin -oh dear can the stars see her now?- and where is she what is she thinking now...

2003-08-01 | 5:38 p.m.
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