a saucy, experimental sonnet
from willa beale
when you | over me, gyrating | lapping edges | so whelmed and warm and loved | kisses plenty | sweat sticky and horny | soft/wet some sounds | under me, some fury | slapping edges | so fierce and needing you | senses lovely | cannot release you now | hard/fast you say | i say something else | babbling sedges | so delirious, dead | flesh is wanting | cannot release you now | hot/breath nothing | little death, little death | stabbing pleasure | so curious, quiet | senses silent | cannot release you now | shaking finished | come closer if you can | lapping edges | lovemaking disquiets | sleep/rest
author’s note
i hope you enjoy this experimental expression borne of sensual indiscretion. read it however you’d like: line-by-line, column-to-column, upside-down, downside-up, backwards, forwards, on the counter, on the couch, on the floor, in the closet, deep in the woods, under the water, etc. we’re all a little horny but some of us are edging to the stars.
a month ago, Pan and i brought you another erotic serving. may this one end such a period of silence as has passed through this space. i texted Him earlier:
Winter’s over, Orthonym. get back to editing. i read Journal XV. i know you have bullshit under the belt. lemme seeeeee—
so i dunno, maybe He’ll get off his ass and invent something cool for us.