Put the newspaper down first, this is bound to make a mess

The next time I have sex 

(I’ll invite someone from my contacts list

Doesn’t much matter which)

I will light candles

And spread newspaper

On my floor

murmuring threats like

“I’m going to devour you whole,”

I will have paints

We can dip our hands into

Then touch eachother all over
As evidence that I’ve let this happen,

Our touches will leave 

The prettiest of colors
I will do this

Just as soon as I can

Surrender myself again
Someday, its really going to be

Something grand

11 thoughts on “Put the newspaper down first, this is bound to make a mess

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