Is It Poetry
Deadened - Poem by Is It Poetry
Deadened; He always groaned
pace it he could feel the hot liquid to start to assemble
and to swallow his axis.
He seemed like slow movement warm tipid water'
he could feel heat to lower;
his enormous tap of tap right with this;
he spouted out outside in the mouth
which so much had hopelessly wished with the taste of him.
He lost the account;
how much many hour its rivers in its beautiful mouth,
but could only hear the glouglou of it's thick sun of heat
in the back of its throat.
It continued to suction on him during the sleep;
it milked and milked its stones for the all last snowfall.
It felt all its life leave off energy it during the nova
it are late on the closed eyes.
It continued to pump it and pump it so that its sterness faded.
Then it felt its fingers to withdraw the moon
and of its release of hand tightening on its stones.
Finally its mouth drew from him and it could lt'; S to
envisage to swallow and lick its full red lips.
It n' a small muscle during tight a lower part to him
the sheets along the side it assembled did not move
and prolongs its head on its trunk with the sleep,
dreaming on vacuum.
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