While fair dust hangs suspended around you
And thoughts of sweat make some sluts start to blush,
Vanilla’s touch still lingers on her skin;
Her slinking curls and ends frizz, unabashed
It’s just one sticky second’s metal lurch
For smooth annihilation of that lust.
(So fuck those cunts that find tongues first
And hunt through pockets and flicker from hurt.)
Just look at this slut with her bare knees’ dirt!
From heat-drenched orange peels crushed beneath your soles,
She may derive a sweetness—most sluts do—
Which makes those twine straps unfurl faster still.
A forage; conquests won forge fiercer praise.
No mother-crone, just maid your hands will slay.