Sunday, 29 November 2015

V For Me Who Am The Bony One

How came I to first know of Pamela Primtit? She of the shapely nostrils flared  so large, so square and so obscure, her chins foregathered above the confines of her neck...

Mottled her skin hued like alligator skin in robust leatherette.

Swatches of bluish tinged aquamarine verdure.



In the fallow hours her skirts raised revealing the umber blemishes of her folded flesh I formulated a plan to raid that cushioned cone. We dreamed in spires our contours to release, our breath basted chickens in that early glow of the hushed Immateria.

Hence my seed was spent her scent secreted my flesh depleted, I heard her whisper my name...Verlaine she shushed, my Verlaine ...

Later, much later, when we drifted foam rubber from deep wayward under we ate at Two Fish and a Latex Finger.

.
.
.
Russell Cuts the Corn From The Brewers Whiskers.

No comments: