down so down low long gone wasted away in the heat then the miracle occurs. another someones someone let the cherry become a friend, lets the sheets roll back against the entrance we were all born in. fingers point and probe into another mistake we can;t just walk away from( stiff cock as glue against the logical escape) then the tongue becomes involved in another come-stuck nite, then the whole place reeks of lust and we’re on the back streets until the end, and the end is never easy when sampling the unknown, the others goods, the goods so sweat and ripe and wasted by foolish attendants( why would anyone, any fool let such a pink beast as this sit, sat alone in this heat) hot, wanton, vagrant amore, heavy with drink, drunk from the bottle , the lip the hip, the loose the tight the hunger the night will end before release and really, release is the last thing on our minds because along with the coming of the sun and some strange, immortal moral compass, release must mean the end, back to drudgery, the dirge of commitment sex, the old side-shuffle hump done under the cover of bored darkness, just when the frictioned engagement against the unlikely sight of something so like our own desire has finally and wholley set us free, release will bring only orgasm, loneliness and the return to those beings that leaped us upon this unholy crumplled matress in the first place…