He acts like he’s nervous,
he could not stammer, “n-n-no, w-h-a-a…wait!”
Kiss the dull sides of his flesh, such I want to cut into the fuck?

this experience kills

The stakes are in killing,
such are his cheeks, “go ahead and danger.”
The balance of his tongue is careful power.

this experience kills the intimacy

The explosive crack of pulling out,
the attack to the jugular is sharp and in love. “I see you.”
The dull side is flush with domination.

this experience kills the intimacy of sex

He jerks back on the object of his sex
and affection for conflict, “Cry boy. Cry.”
I only submit to submit when I can’t conflate intimacy with this matter.

intimacy is sex into the skin

I insert the explosive crack of affection
I can’t help convulsing to the torture, “Suck my pocket, then could I stop, boy?”
He complies, still reeling in the distance, it keeps him completely.

this experience