Squeakiest, a Play
Withered lacerations, cuticle stains: weeding out the pleasure of flourishing pain: interpreting it intricately spotted: pretending to be extraordinarily jealous and polite, slop of lobes worn out, addressing the singularly softened uneasiness of the nurtured convergence of blue pressure within the repercussion's dissolution into subjectivity: boldly interrupted, mum tongue of the pale chrysanthemum: abuse me with delight, then abandon me sticky traipse of spinal fluid vibrating: unexpectedly cherished in vain, gradually, easily naked in between unabashed inkblots: the perils of the sea shell have been abandoned, weaning off of muscles: kindly insert it into the outlet nonplussed jabs at the flukes of dissonance: strangely I am anxiously neglecting to come, diddling the triangulate blare, graciously guessing about the array of colored paper precariously clobbered: it is for this that they are unlikely to possess carnal knowledge of the cross: split bungling, steadily being sucked-off headlessly disruptive bullet-hole: impatiently inundated with feelings, presumptuously dissolved, for which they exact a fist the bookworm's gasps instinctively became detached in the unarranged rivulets of the stream: it was the squeakiest suck ever, but O so tender, and so quietly and kindly refurbished as indignation and estrangement it was a lapsed crowbar: this is nothing but a test the shine slung along the wall, appalled at the flourishes of a stolen identity icky non-breathing: the pressure guessed at the creases and the stretch marks preciously all alone: meticulously iridescent, a glut of tones spit out, unnamed crotches galore adjacent to the wobbling strata: halved instances of light or delight, the trellis of darkness nudges me on: she is my love gasps of the wound, womb-wounded literally, oblong abscess: sewn beliefs about the odor of the door wading into undescended testicles, dexterously without meat: ass sheen meddling in the despair of truth a penchant for words blistering between the lines: I cannot die without you, quiet spark wailing in the cell of pleasure a burp asserts itself: ordinarily curious and cautious, inserted shivers plainly finished off as the acrid breath of indifference: it coerced me to come indifferently to the split: why should I pee scoffing at a leaf: heartily, immediately flannel-stuck, scrunched-up on my face: she may be seen to be squating seedlessly wispy and dull: it is because of doubt singed and brittle: mush of roses, shiny and disgusted with morning: dashed unions a frumpy strut: they come to be blessedly grated quivering boob: could I violently feel it dissecting gooey swollen loins: may they be felt like squinting satiations, an exchange of nuclear material panting spleen: it cannot be felt: whining yolk: less have been here unevenly, discretely flaunting it, if not for this viscously aw-shucks: it was why they were so mean, but my I lures you, for which they and I love peeking at the noiseless facets of the rarely curdled scraps: they may be incubating, idly relieved heart on the verge of pulsing: all of which they mistakenly know I inhale a mouth: not tonight during winter, daylight without a cock surging, not even one: they should be incomparably attacked empty dangling: they should not feel less charged up, lured into the diagonals of hissing metal, the gonads of teeth tremors, fake filth and prancing slurs detonating the moist discharges of unencumbered murmurs: they should by and by be sternly nervous, announcing instances of dead flowerbeds a pouch sprouts to quell the musk of collapsed mold: they are not all alike, fortunately for robust loneliness a tic flares in the crumpled configuration of the caustic blossom: you will see the account of this: a tic flares in the crumpled blossom of caustic configurations: I know you will not come dewdrops in the test-tube limply hollering: I am inclined to insist on a spare decision --Bob BrueckL
