Cross marked - the fuck and guts.
A top down entering as the standard falls.
He stomped.
Braying his entry; defying lines and boundaries.
Used hands and a doubled down thrust;
No speak - just rummaging.
Twisted and skewered - I am shadowed to dust.
This ramming force.
Ham fisted but with bigger wants.
The hard lusts till I can no longer talk.
And underneath - the smile that must play nice. MB
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