By Oldepunk
The smell of rotting agendas always waft in your wake. I’ve grown accustomed to your sand storm daffodils. It’s not what you once were, but what you could be that still intrigues me. Potential, potentially terminal, with velocity. Sniper taking aim, the looks you throw with abandon. I lie still sometimes and pretend I can hear the screaming in your eyes. I would have given it all for you, you know. I do not think it would have mattered to you. You are the song Reptile by The Church. I can see you sauntering and stalking in the sun by the beach every time I hear that song. Which is often, ’cause I like to pick at open wounds. The bloody mouth of puckering pink skin attempting to heal is such a turn on and a visceral reminder of your violence, my violet-skinned lecher. Your Krispy Kreme…
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Great, writing. ☺👍
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Thank you 🙏❤
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I’m liking this again! Darnedy darn darn.
I know, I should tone it down a little, but this is such a great piece!!! ❤
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Thank you and a very big hello Vanessa!! How are you?!?!
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Hi! A very big hello back!
And I am not too bad, thanks. Looking forward to some vacation time next month, hopefully hit the beach 🙂
How are you?!?
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Life has been interesting after some time of peace, but we’re dealing with the challenges as best we can. Stoopid life. Family is fat and happy though so really cannot complain. Vacay sounds nice!💚
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Oh, I am sorry to hear that! I don’t know what to say except that you will always have a listening ear here if you ever need it 💚
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Thank you dear heart. Same for you my friend 🙏🍻
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Awww 💞
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