jack and his french gurl
whistle winds wash
over the meadow
the grass tall
and whipping
there are borage flowers
that sprout wild
in patches of blue
like little islands
in an ocean of green
her eyes are agile
and hazel
they remind me of dead leaves
naked and mounted
she pushes herself
into me, holding her breasts
the nipples a heathered pink
and her skin soft and
flawless
i eject
my seed
the milky
mass festering
in her
ovaries
and the leaking blood
down her thighs
like a creek
the red stains as
we lay adjacent
on the earth
it becomes like
a tattoo, to remember
the pain and the shame
Horror Sleaze Trash 