God (or Sex)

God (or Sex)


Pitch black
Smell of beer
And altars on your walls
Mirrors of lies
That tell you
Who you are
You take me
Kiss me furious
Make me love you
Throbbing
Pulsating
Aching to stab me
Waiting for the right time
God, I wish your hands
Stayed longer on me
(And you inside me)
Stab me, hit me hard
Fuck me slow & sweet
Breathe in me
And on me
And for me
Then kneel above me
And say I must go home
I see all those
Primary colors you wear
Get to me like
Tchaikovsky
Or the latest Norman Mailer novel
But not quite as
Intriguing
Lick me
Fuck me
Taste my flesh
Hot & bothered
While your incense burns
As much as your passion
And contempt
Altars in your walls
Telling you to give a fuck
And read people's eyes
Be illiterate
And have me pay
The price

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