The Bread is my Body Eat, Eat Me

BY MAHALIA CRAWSHAW

the body is weak my body is weak and the red on my lips spells temptation and it blows a kiss

to the girl in the mirror she smirks she knows she unbuttons her blouse and pulls up her skirt her lust is showing

and still the man at the dais he yells he spits he gets red in the face because these girls young girls are owning their bodies and yet can we really when we wear our heels like armour and learn to run in them because it’s dark at night and his mind is dark his needs, his wants, his desires

our desires are not his because his are twisted and sharp and harsh and his breath smells like chaos and hot it’s hot on our necks on our tails as we walk home run home in the dark

i will not let that stop me i will not let him stop me no matter how hard he tries no matter how hard he gets hard hardheaded hardhead frollo’s fire burning for us hellfire burning us but not before he’s done with us mouth-watering over our shoulders, our knees our naked necks because those men running under the guise of family values value this value girls under the guise of mission, of rescue, of getting off behind closed doors open the fucking door

and we are gypsies let us be free the devil tempts me i do not think my faith is strong enough to stop me from flirting, from undressing from fucking the pretty girl in the club bathroom when her red lips taste like this taste like release and heat and strawberry and peach she is sweet and the alcohol is making me tipsy the gin is making me horny the wine is lowering my inhibitions and they were low to begin with and i do love a show come and see my exhibition its skin and wet and tongues and cum and hungry hands hungry mouths

i like it when he cums inside me dripping or when she shudders on top of me moaning let me moan loud louder louder oh god god please

tempt me *sigh* again