Fire screaming like sirens full of wrath
Too late, men's souls needed for the crush
Like a fine wine to sticky toes,
Much too much.
And the stiffs stomp in, one by one
lined up pretty, like a dozen smoking guns
Waiting for salvation from the One
Saliva thick on sweaty gums.
But who can pay the half-pence
For the pleasure of a story
Over forty, and still nothing
Came like it does in the stories.
Your days are sordid and dull
Like a dumb fighter with rope burns
Like a tap on the back
From a floozy who calls herself Destiny
Incredible how her neck
Never gets stuck in the noose
She's so loose like she's juiced
On oil and chartreuse.
But then ether's coming too
In the hands of winsome Serenity.
No blemishes there, just
Porcelain and paint
Steel and sutures lead the way
Into her pent-house of Pleasure.
Break it and buy it
Carry it and console it
Let the jagged edges of sorrow bite your nimble limbs
Lick up the profits
On kitten tongues that tickle
In the softest places.
Menage trois
They love you
They need you
They taste you
And They want more.
-DION VOX
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