No title

Entitled to your body, i have serpently found a way to reach inside of your skin.

Today is thin.

No smiles just bones.

Hung over the phone is calling me.

Madness arose, there you go.

Play with fire, the only rose in the garden.

The thorns on her neck, and my stiff stick.

Goosebumps, and the rear view.

Of her hair, all over the chair.

She is asking for scissors, to repeat the action with three of us in the backroom.

Sweaty and ugly we are.

So are the stars in the sky.

I shot down the sun, with my shotgun.

Black holes.

And the quiet climax.

We came at the same time.

Horizontally and clockwise.

Ready to rise.

With the rooster on the rooftop.

And the moon in her face, behind the curtain, like the clouds.

Dreadly raindrops drip from her eyelashes, as if she was taking a shower.

Splashing in the pond.

Wisdom has always proven itself wrong.