Friday, 19 April 2013

The Orange

As I pluck you from the tree,
Soft and round you feel to me.
Tender as a young girls breast,
You entice me, you are the best.
Your jacket tight must be undone,
But wait this is not for everyone.

Take a knife and slice the fabric
I push under the pith, wet and stick– – – y
Your juices come on my fingers, running on the peel
Smelling sweet and sticky feel
How do you say I should eat of thee?
Should I rip your clothes off completely?

Spread you wide and into your innermost parts
with my tongue searching for your heart?
Or gently peel your segments one by one.
Eating each succulent piece as rays of sun
Allowing those juices which are the very blood of you
To dribble – down my chin.

I shall slowly devour you piece by piece till
at the end your remains lie still
torn upon the dirty floor
discarded like a $5 whore.

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