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Topic: Your Only Hunger

Sweetened tongues dripping from spoiled corpse
Skin necrosis... patched with papers of divorce
Stapled ever so painless to deadened Neurons
Cept the man and myself who longs for loosened thongs
Resting upon my grave looking up at the night sky
The bright moon groped from thoughts applied.
Giving a sex change to the man in the moon
Two breasts bloom- Its climbs higher resume
Acting as a ladder to a celestial bedroom
Clambered up by knobby hands... set to swoon
The new night’s mistress upon a starry mattress
Mist rests upon her pale face - sloping to her chest
The deep valley carved out from Mars' frozen waters
Melting upon touch... seeping lower into harbor
Now mixed with saliva... leashed to his tongue
Rung in the hound... took in the scent- filled my lungs
Provoking memories rather left unsaved
The same one... that pushed me off cloud nine- back into my grave
Upon the hard earth – no wait it’s a soft bed
A barren tree- no that temptress- playing with my head
The tombstone tempered into a mahogany board
Tied to both by the imaginations kinky chords

Pulling me back to the past…

Her full breasts were stuffed with dough
That buttered her bread… with semen though
Communing with her body… fetish feasts
Drowning in the wine of temptation -from the blood of beasts
Fermenting in yeast – budding from erections
Drunken with the perception of love – cruel deception
Was the silver lining to plastic words… It was fake
Appraised finally after years… But it was too late…

When your drunk- it can often slur your vision
Was I in love… no I was sexually smitten
Wrong again… my body fiends for the amrita of sex
Poured upon the deity that’s erect

A zombie can only hunger for one thing...
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Amrita – The Hindu Gods Celestial Food, Gives Humans Immortality
A penis looks like Shiva Linga… A simplified statue of Shiv which oblations are poured over.
Don’t vote if you cant understand… Please.

the fresh scent of perfume fills my lungs with fluid,
the big white door, so close as i run through it,
friday night, me and my friends have a night of passion,
dressing up and sipping tea, talking about fashion,
makeup time, "put a little blusher here, eye liner there",
"go get me my wig, it saves me straightening my hair",
"pick a dress sir" choices choices, "hmmm i love pink",
but there's too many to choose from its getting hard to think,
"ill take that one" "done, ok now ill take it up to your suite",
meanwhile you might want to look at stilletoes for your feet,
from yellow to black, every shade, so beautiful to see,
but i can see this one pair that are just glearing out to me,
perfect fit, omg! i feel like cinderella going to the ball,
but i pulled up in a taxi and im not in the great hall,
i see a couple of my friends, very niice, they look pretty,
so petite, and who knew to choose a dress you gotta be witty,
the nights young, so much to do so much to see,
almost 2 people in one body, but i feel more like me,
this is getting to be a hobby, i'd like it to be summond,
because my only hunger wasn't food, but to be a women,