trigger fingers held her pearl, hostage.
as
her detainee uses blunt, cylindrical force.
negotiating?
"don't make me do this," he pleads.
"please officer ..." she pants.
calculated methodical interrogation
and a push of a certain detonator -
dope, bass-line, beats like
courtroom gavels
echoing from within
convulsions like
450 watts surging guilty
as charged.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
6 comments:
You are a nasty girl...
Me like!!!
this is dope
oooh that's some kinda sexy!
xoxo
vixen
Owee...hottt.
Happy National Poetry Month! With Your bad self!
Jaycee
Post a Comment