My poetic thoughts penetrate words deeper than the penal thrusts to my wall's curves
Insane strokes of back and forth action
Action manuscripts converted to active actions of words
Action verbs transformed from active nerves
Nerves that acted like they feared to be heard
Say word?
So these words I grasp to massage gently, initially
Then eventually grinding and winding, damn near blinding the sights of their origin
I strip their vision, split incisions into intended insertions
I convert word religions and foster born-again virgins
I menstruate cycles of blood-shed meanings
Seeming as you're feening for the weaning off my word dominant leading
Aaahhhh, let me leave these words alone
But they keep coming back wanting to be shown how my clever lever pierces their skin to the bone
So I continue to seize control, and tease their flow
I squueze then release and let go
Till their semen starts oozing from the smoothing of my word-rooting
Pillow talk anyone?
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