"Pulse" by Adam Fieled & Andrew Lundwall

    The pulse up the neck. down her. The pulse down the spine. found her. the playing in tune. get her. the moon up in june. wet her. i am iambic to her line. so funky. met her on the dance floor. over drinks. drunken. took her home. sunken. boned. oh. oh. oh...

    I croon because the lightning pulsing through her feathers delights. I see her face superimposed on every woman's because desire's an odd thing to have it mambos. My saxophone she says does something to her like a spiritual douche it touches her super-special sundial. the music it pulses in her kool super-special sundial. She's the Pacific to my Atlantic ocean. I'll let myself out. I'll let myself back in 5 seconds later. my roman fingers are connected to greek hands and you let them. you let them because you want them because you watercolored with them in a previous life also spanked with them some other man that looked like me and probably was.

    The pulse in the pink. water. The pulse that I drink. Taught her. Here it was. Open. There I was. Groping. Rope-a-dope. Daughter. Give me more. Want her. Want her to get, down, settle. Want to her to feel, my, metal. Want to her to be, my power. Want her to cat, my, whiskers.

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