Wicked Tone – Twisted Prose

a writing not written,

a wanting not seen,

facsimile smiles,

we harbour our fears,

and fester our lies,

the devil our saviour,

a simple restitution,

eyes on the prise,

cum covered pillows,

crust covered thighs,

there is a symphony of percussions,

music only I can hear,

the foreboding,

the forbidden,

the end is where I begin…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s