Linger here. Breathe that heavy air ripe, humid with rites of spring. Consume this confession, sweet, juice- plump meat, pierce and tear the delicate skin. Inside? Lush, seeded sins. Consecrate- no, anoint- no baptize this sinner – on these knees, open jawed vessel, waiting. Drip on blooded flesh holy water, slippery slick Proffer the offering [...]
Aisling Weaver
. . . Erotica . . . Poetry . . . Art . . .
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