hang on tightly,

let go lightly.

 

oh you know,

she's only a foaming softpack

on the fringe of a digital crèche,

no biggie.

 

her barge of tulle smears

my stalking jpegs.

 

hardbody, if we've not lumped up

in your tender recalls,

in your toil of covert reruns,

what a dry roster of synchro-spasms! 

 

in my palms,

where the sun don't ever shine,

i just can’t look at thee.

i must blank out the lurids,

oggling the corners of the ceiling more.

​

you peeked and i peaked,

to carry on a brio chased.

​

it doesn't wane.

post-fees i bloomed unto you,

but homesick at home.

​

thou art nine - ten ten wins.

 

i would return to nothing without you,

if i’m your girlfriend or not.