of all the things I regret the egress of this

plastic and orgasmic thrust into pure

literary cumbustions is a partner

not platonic or romantic but by my side

inside and out of there minds with the

reality of finding time to blow mine

and blasting this tectonic tryst where

we both find bliss and spit good shit

but its not enough that she turned tail

and ran but took with me my sparring partner

pause and think of that again I’m

missing my marks without my pace keeper

street sweeping action is where we would

rock the house and burn it down just

to cause a fuss and make it musty

cryptic and with a twist where we both

trusted one another but needed

to FEEL the breach that spasmed and

split out ties to rip our eyes away from

locked and loaded but still ready to

never ever stay



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