A RAINBOW KISS
Heaved up over the dead extra-solemn
gnat at her stashed
day
break's end on her
rifer diet of, say, (approx.) a mode set of pretty flinchless
ups and downs smacked
into a glad adherence, alle
grissimo, a drawn-out twitch; you part
person part colour
code grayed
into her guess
and yours, in glareless mothlight. By no means
shaping a pact, and not repressed. Glutted. Each day gags
ring, thunderous. Big Trouble in Little China. I can barely sleep or I sleep in
her best hell's charade, to win each way. Downs
says about fairly, I'd
say or thereabouts just
what's meant, help me out here maybe it's a glister in
surance return, falling (down) and fondling her tendered
fear in the shades
of brilliance she pervades through soap reflux.
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