ramblings

Little  by little the humid
air trickles down
my speckled back and makes me tinker with magic
lost.
Yearning for courage flushed,
I get lost amongst words
and you pull me with recent scents
of fruit and sweat, she
of wild withering, and then there's
the innocence of untouched pearls.
I descend into banality and these words,
the only safe retreat,
whores now to be sold like you, titter, and I grimace,
My mind cheekily
framing verses of love, when
lust shimmers - the waif of an unfettered
and dissatisfied, impotent and impatient
husband. Her lust clouds judgement
- I wait with impatience
for lusty fingers to find
solace in the digging of dead skin.