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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Erotica · #1920549
32B 24 Waste 36 inch spiked Mr. Mild inside Mrs. Mischievous.
32B 24 Waste 36 inch spiked Mr. Mild inside Mrs. Mischievous.

Mr. Mild In its' Mrs. Mischievous.

Mysterious often
Insecurities
Tear away at me
Fears,
Scars.
Prey on me

if Ideas for years
Bring tears to me
and
Locks the bare shocks
My mind
My heart
That rips
And tears me apart.

I canąt get a grip
Or hold
Onto anything
Don't be sad
girly girl
if I let go
Or let go
get a hold
don't let go of me.

Or I use
But not gently
Or misuse
Or abuse
And choose
To give up
Or move on
Mentally.

Or this has been
with me since it began
Call it Turmoil
cherries on the boil
Emotionally.
And the terrors
That stay with me
I hurt
oh that's just childhood

My oh by Feel misunderstood,
I should.

Did I buy my
Life intentionally?
Or grow up like
Was prepared for me.

I could
if I would,
explain this in therapy.

And complain incessantly.
But what does that get me
Time no longer escapes me
Aware of how long it takes me
To make it go away
Like yesterday
slaying dragons
patterns
smoking silver wrappers
if I had them

Fun so fast
Oh my goodness
This is taking forever and never ending
Will I last?

And look behind me
Like itąs still in front of me
Future shot all across the hills and what not,

No presents left.
Because every moment
Resembles itself
Like yesterday.


Seemed like Yesteryear
Except now I ąm older.

Without the beard...
Silly Female.
go check your lipstick

NOT smeared.
oh good cept
Not much wiser or
... Flinging red paint to the inner town of I.

Hoarding my life Inside my bare soul
Wretched with scars and still so sexy.
HI.

Don't deny it,
Sweetie-Pie.

Or would the lesser guy
Stretch the miles
watch this baby fly
Like my own car salesman.

Scar Sales man.
Bars.
Scales then.
Jars. Empty,
Jails Bars or Alcohol or
Just
Hard core man.

Lots of Cars.
Slick like Dirty down right
Corvettes

Or
Lemons

Bittersweet and a pretty yellow collection.

Like Curls of Hair
Latched in a corner
Licked back
And shack stack
Only later to be touched
By first the mortuary
Then the mourner.

Dead or Devine

Alcohol
Mr. Mild in its Mrs. Mischievous.

Looks nice in a glass.
Filled with my mellow
Destructive side.
In a clear wall
That was beginning to show through too much to tell.

The walls hąve tried so hard to stand behind
And cracking

Nicely done,
Mr. Mild gone

Mrs. Won
This time.
which is this one
in one line
wishes are what
made mine
A
fine
lie

and then
again it is this.

Of course this
is just
Make Believe.

Or who did you think I was
Underneath

~fin~
© Copyright 2013 Jaimesen Chayse (jmsn at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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