Dark Horse boasts hands
eager for night hunt, absent
of thought;
of conscience, klepto-twins crawl under
homeless sheets, spider-walking up
discarded legs.

Pretty ladies rub more than stone
members, desperate in search of these…

Dark Horse carries its empty rubbers,
mood and flavor
Sardanapalian desires,
weaving away at rotted earth fruit, leaving
spider-silk string

around stiff ankles, legs,

marrying left to right
until necrophiliac appetite returns.


9 thoughts on “Manicphiliactic

  1. I have nominated you for the TMI Blog Award.

    The TMI Blog Award honors those blogs that discuss everything in detail and do it well. These bloggers aren’t afraid to discuss their most awkward, embarrassing and intimate experiences with honesty, humor and little to no filter.

    I have no clue how to do this properly…so hopefully the link works. I do love your TMI!
    The Cockroach

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