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Adhered to a gaunt stem, discretely deflowered,
I traced the arc of your lips, yet
Wet,
With such stillness of hand, did I
Fear hunt for an inverse
Might lick their neophyte fangs
Blood-eager; 
Roots unborn,
(Page 3) publicized
And running with the wolves.  
Migrant and
(Lovingly)
Grown intertwined,
You lay on the river's bed,
A violet pimpernel
And swept-to-bald
Child petals,
Flounced upstream
To circle the drain,
(Tenderly)
Curb-stomped - 
A crippled God am I.
God of empty spaces.  
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http://kaisikudo.deviantart.com/
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Liam. 
Poet.
Guitarist.
Generally awesome guy. 
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cityofcircuits Energumen OpRise Surreal Snake
Falkirk, Central Scotland