Hell and Sex Sounds

To just shrink away

out of your

mass churched periphery,

hide in a soft

tender touch,

martyr I was,

to your scent,

I felt the world

grow dim and daft,

spring fever came

dragging me by

the long hairs

on the top of my silly head,

slurping thick cum

oozing out of  hard cocks,

wet tongues,

towards one more

bloody pill

that kept you

sputtering out odes

and quick secrets,

rushing out of your mouth

on my skin,

all in one breath,

that you forgot

you had told me,

in the morning,

and I wasn’t going

to discuss it further,

even if you bent your

face into my deep pussy

and begged,

with light sucks and whispers

into my womb,

fucked up phantoms

dancing

to synthetic beats,

all I seemed to be able

to do was shut down,

breathe deeply,

close my eyes

to the horrors

hunted down and

displayed in the circus tent,

the stage set,

solo for that weeping reaper,

only the rain could save us

and even she felt dirty,

Alice

and her battered dolls,

caterpillar and madhatter

wrathed at the sight,

in silent sex tones

and laughter. 

Witness

Red flags burning,
I awoke to the sounds
of fireworks going off in the church
of Mary's angel.

In the evenings,
the river ran up to meet me
and I floated,
face first,
downstream during
the time of twilight's hunting season.

Heaven scoffs at the matchmaker,
teeth marks left on the stove by the monster,
I snuck in the backdoor  of hell
to return my costume,
from the burning masquerade held on saturday night.
The devil's horns are raised to the sky
as he counts backward from Scorpio.