by Robin B. Lipinski
So fine this smell of soul upon the ethereal tongue
Sensing the flowers nectar bittered, cream fallen, soured milk, son of Adam has turned
Daughter of Eve, charms fading as with paint and scent she beckons.
He with her and her with him while together two of the same gender,
bodies swimming in motion,
tempting, refreshing pool of sex.
Trodden angel flee, wings curled in defeat, they no longer are worthy of your being
Mine, mine, mine,
This is my world for which you all 'need'
There is no God, no love, no purity…
Breathe in deeply, follow your 'needs'
When your lungs can no longer take its fill of life,
I'll be waiting with my kiss, my breath, my death
Do not worry child, soon you'll see.
© 2015 Robin B. Lipinski
Robin B. Lipinski claims to be addicted to writing. It helps that his good dreams are other people's nightmares. There is not much to know about him other than he shares this planet with you and others.
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