Lead me not unto grizzled men
redolent with Vicodin and Scotch
and rough living,

battle-worn men weathered and
cragged with hard leathered souls
and Underwood hands.

Men that bite their sorrows
on the curve of my hip and
lick their sins in fine
stocking seams up the backs of
my thighs;

men that strip me and flay me
bare on white sheets
like paper undone and weeping
for the catharsis of release;

men who write their poems
on my naked body
while I drink cheap red wine
and listen to the rain hit

the window in the dark of morning.


Frankie Saxx writes stuff on the internet. (Least frequently at her own blog, The Amazing Frankie.) You can stalk her on Twitter if you’re bored. http://frankie.ninjatoaster.com/

Share →

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>