Post Coitus Rock de Joan of Arc

Skin and eyes.
Skinny skinny.
Naturally glamorous. So
naturally glamorous.

A couple cold
hammers. A bag
of cut hair. Say
fuck a lot. Shades
of Dorian Gray.

So in like
in lost in
you like
a talking
cornfield.

So close
your
eyes. Explaining
colors
to the blind.

Every gesture.
God, licking
and spit
gently. Could
groan forever.