Wet feet, wet skin in the apartment
torment, half bent on the carpet
long hair, longing for corruption
face down, falling with seduction
and I don't want to be
your man.
Opal opens with the night-hum
stick thin, sticking until we both cum
chain smoke, sculpture none the wiser
breakdown whispers on the horizon
and I don't want to be
your man.
and I know you'll
you'll never cool down
Mez/Mick
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