oxymoron (Remove filter)
Sex and Cigarettes
The smell of sex and stale cigarettes, Two bodies connected in life and death, Chapped lips meet between the sheets, Lust in our bones, the Reaper in the air. How rare an oxymoron, neither with clothes on, We follow recreation with deadly inhalation, Skin touching skin, lips wrapped around uncertainty, Two separate entities leaned inwards somehow gently, Feeling so alive, ...
Monday 27th April 2015 10:07 pm
Recent Comments
Sunshine on An apology
42 minutes ago
Sunshine on Comedy of errors
43 minutes ago
Sunshine on Towards a brighter future
44 minutes ago
Bethany Sallis on Eradicating an old flame pain
1 hour ago
Bethany Sallis on Eradicating an old flame pain
1 hour ago
David RL Moore on Eradicating an old flame pain
1 hour ago
Bethany Sallis on song of pure desperation.
1 hour ago
Bethany Sallis on Gone Girl
1 hour ago
Bethany Sallis on Breathe
1 hour ago
Bethany Sallis on Preferences in attendance
1 hour ago