the sin i sought,
modest lust and thought.
my eyes memorising a neon-glow jawline,
collar bone and
there are hollows and ridges i climb up and into
in my sleep,no more
than grains of spacebound tears
music scattered around by those eyes
and gaping nostrils
like the forest breeze in spring,
wild yet soft and the tint.
theres always the tint.
but beyond the grainy hue,
a tide of burning red and the witching
hour gives me
more than thirst or thought.
this aint nothing, ho. and ok yes i posted, go me. even though more than half of teh people i tagged in my lastpost havnt done their tag. sheh shoot me someone.
and bytheway, this:
is me and the new oink. ive had enough of virtual pigs, now this is the real shit :D