Whisper twister,Your warm breath on my ear.Your eyes caress-slime on my breast.All I do is cover with wings,Things I can’t confess. Your wrinkles sparkle,And it burns inside.The horns amidst your locks,And I’d like to hold myself there….Covering with wings,The things I won’t tell.Ideas of furnace,Bad advice…. I can’t help to desire. Day after day,Your hooves crushing on leaves.Closer to the meadow,Splashing the creek.And I can’t tell but help,My chest wishes ahead.Oh bad advice,You shouldn’t murmur to Cupid.

Thousand, hundred, maybe tens.I don’t know,I lost count.Tiny, sandy, sharpy.Is the sand under my feet wet at day?Or is it sinking my own weight?Not realizing when…Ah ah ah ah…Cold and wet.But I’m already…I’ve already got my feet in it.Am I further in?Or back to the untouched side?

I wrote.You answered.Simple, not pretense.It’s nothing I think.Expectation….