Favilla and I (Part 1)

Suicide Girl 7

I drive the desert’s hips
Jumping from tooth to tooth
And pausing only long enough to feel
Her warm breathe on my cheek
Sex upon a moment reserved
Rape of luna’s endearing glow
Pregnant with the need to escape
And carved to resemble someone’s fear
Favilla smiles from the passenger seat
Her knuckles white and dangerous
Gripping the 45 still smeared with lipstick
I smile back in a whisper
The bleeding cuts tickling my chest
Sand caked to my naked feet
Regrets of old surpassed only by the count of stars
I reach out to clasp her slick hand
As she muffles a hungry groan
Funny how they struggle even after death
Sad how the night masks the wrinkle…


~ by ryantyrl on December 23, 2009.

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