Mourning Ritual

Morning Ritual:
Boring Habitual
Fettered Perpetual
Snoring Litanal–
no– Litany.
Waking free
To the shaking-death
First-breath ending
Of the beginning.
Better off, indeed.

Set her off:
Offspring–
O-ring,
Gold things
Wrapped in diamonds
Like ear-rings.
Heard me sing,
Stuck around somehow, then
Bounced when I clowned
Around with her
V-thing.

Broken G-string–
On guitars or in mars
–I mean Venus,
With that c-thing.
Clit.
Once touched,
Once tasted,
Now I want it.
Hard rubbed,
Wet-basted,
I still taste it.
Legit.

Back to that
First breath,
Like a near-death
Experience
but fearing this,
She runs away with
Her soft breasts.
Tits!

Left alone
At home,
Bored to the dome
Smoke a bowl?
No.
Left that long ago,
Still I fiend
for this green
I filed away in my
Brain-thing:
Memory.

Energy:
Lost but not
Forever,
Better I let her
Go now to get home and
Stay safe from
Stormy weather.
Where she drowns out
The loud sounds of the
World unbound,
Chases her fuzzy love-mound
Kitty sentinel.
Hunger chased away
By the end-of day
Blitz-fallen
Kitchen call of
Her evening habitual.
Fast-forward.
Morning Ritual.

 

(Header BG photo from http://www.deanagar.com.au )

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