My bed was empty so it wasn’t a jealous lover’s partner; and it was too late in the morning for a drunk tenant to miscalculate where they live.
I opened the door. Didn’t think to look through the key hole. It was too early for psycho stabbers.
No one was there;
- had opportunity knocked - and I spent too much time calculating.
THE MAN IN THE MOUTH Every man that comes out of my mouth will have no commonality with the mundane. No seeds will be cast on rocks. There is no station in life that will enslave my orgasm into a dictatorial space.
The Man in my mouth is in a redemptive space but most would quarantine this pregnant space, categorize the touch;
and homeless gestures are premature ejaculations of imagination, and fifteen minutes of face time is allotted to strangers.
No one wants to see what is in front but sidestep into an intoxicating view. Hallucinations are a short-term ecstatic high; and a choice drug will not stop the flooding verbiage of demon/angels coming out of your mouth; but being ignorant and blind, your pronunciations are made flesh.
So, choose carefully; the men that come out of your mouth.