it’s a flesh wound, they say,
and purse
their thick cleaved lips
at the prone twitch-yiffing
of my wetly gleaming form,
which is
nearly as masturbatory
as wordpress.
we are tiny manimals calcite
and mineralised in amber
monument to the day
we came so hard
we fossilised ourselves.
there is a symmetry to the golden ratio of the
nautilus,
the cleaved foot of the goat with
a thousand young,
the raw milky glass-white of
translucent anal beads.
you fuck my flesh wound
with your polydactyl thumb
and a horde of sugar gliders bursts out
swimming for their lives.
I wilt like a corsage,
or most hard-ons.
it is not just because they are my
cosmic progenitor parents
that they are called
The Elder Ones.
we are hatching wordlessly
under the earth
and still
dead cthulhu
lies wet dreaming.
#SingPoWriMo2015Day03 #SingPoWriMoDay03 #SG50ShadesOfGrey
#marylyntan
Write an erotic poem
Bonus 1: …with no people in it.
Bonus 2: Pun.
marylyn's textual efforts 