WHAT IT’S LIKE

It’s hot, like… S. Africa in January during a nuclear war. This way… that way… any and all ways… any more?

It’s delicious like… a pound of the bone-in, it’s delicious like… the pound of the bone when it’s in.

It’s stimulation, satisfaction, then gratification for the ejaculation.

It’s sweat trickling down on my lips and on my tits, rubbed in like lotion, scratched in like a long lasting itch.

It’s fucked like… the Buffalo Bills getting spanked in my own home, middle fingers/legs in the air. I’ll be ready for the next time you cum!

It’s like… I’m hypnotized, whatever he asks me it’s yes, I saw my third eye close, and heard my tongue confess. Did I really just tell him all that mess?

It’s comfort, like sofa lounging talking to my old friend, it’s deep like Kemetic symbols etched in our skin.

It’s when he was so cool that I was sad for goodbye. It’s like… libation…seeing it come down my eye, I should have made this poem cry.

It’s eagerness and excitement, witticisms and enlightenment, it’s anticipation and ease, it’s the titillating tease.

It’s like…voodoo, like I’m under some spell… though, he’s relief, like…a soft grayish-blue when my eyes were stinging from yellow.