Head cold extravaganza of bland incompetence

lost for new words, lost for something understood

I read somewhere, someplace, all that there is

is forged by the seven seas frenzied deep blue orgy


For the odd one out a pity? perhaps so, maybe not

such twisted indulgence often delivers fringe benefits

yet here, here at water’s edge I see clearly now

how profligate the swollen belly sculptress tide

she, lucky girl, answers only to a wide-eyed moon

all too easy to foretell, a docile consort, no match

for this capricious one who would caress whatever

took her fancy, and make it new, or perhaps destroy


My meandering interpretations struggle for breath

die, overlooked, such spiteful evaporation at birth

as of now my fever returns, hellfire’s own cauldron, then

glacial epoch trembling, I need to be encased within

need her divine contours, jewellery and silhouettes

want her shape-shifting nakedness, interlaced invention

woven, healing tight, an hallucination of sticky promises

want her, she, the one who like the riptide is ever changing

ever untamed, fickle, answering only to this spacey black moon


17 thoughts on “TWISTED INDULGENCE

      1. True…my dear wife tells me that while she might want to be a shape-shifter in order to sneak up and kill miscreants such shape-shifting does not apply to my desires…that’s told me then!

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