Mortal Grinding Machine

Goddess, you are soaked in sweat
And I think it might be mine
I too might have slipped in yours
What a to do!

Half word, half nestle
We’re mortar and pestle

Here between your open thighs
I spread your split infinitive
You seem to really like it
When I glide through

Half sheet, half wrestle
We’re mortar and pestle

Wetly, our pelvic parsing
Breaks us down to grunts and moans
Conjoined in husky syntax
I quake in you


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