Soft, white, flowing,
transcends this touch, scent
'cross the whispering winds
seeps into your wounded soul,
the cries of pleasure and pain,
yearning, burning for them,
the pleasure that drips from
every single pore,
let them rain between your thighs,
in the valley where death smiles,
as you slumber think of the smooth
curves brushing your skin
hardening you up
on the darkest moonlit night
midsummer rite
kisses you softly under the
midnight sky, dark clouds, hanging branches,
moaning loud inside your head,
can't get it out, can't get enough,
you want it, its yours.
death smiles, its coming for you!
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