May 29, 2020Bioman, Flash, Poem, Poetry, Uncategorized Leave a comment FOR ZARA Slow love is not the thing fast talking is not being Short timing makes me spring to heel with flourishing leanings toward the blessed arc of your throat where I find iron and globin for sustenance and greed. Your eye cannot cover the words of lusting fury that pass my glot when I see your image on my wall sharing you is like suicide in hot oil I burn and flake cinders blow in the wind leaving me nothing but scarred lungs There is no antidote to your poisonous affections you kill me and steel my nerves for battle Like a drugged assassin I am prepared for death for you but on one condition. COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2020 Share this:TwitterFacebookPrintLinkedInEmailLike this:Like Loading...