17
Ian
08

We fu*ked like Zaietz and the Pagady – an Eastern European „dojna”

When off I went
One winter day, by noon
The clapping bark of the old oaks
Cried „Wolf, don’t leave us!”

Soon, their sound was bent
And crawling lamely in the dust.

I bit my lips, where in the spring
I had scorched them on my lover’s breast

I cut my shoulder, where her scent
Was still upon my growling chest.

And as a bleeding, hunting fiend
I did not rest nor watch the lands
As by me, in a rage, they passed –
A mile upon another throwing
Between my trail of frozen hunger
And her nine lives of lustful cunt.

Like thunder through the burning flesh
Without a pause, or turning gaze –
I swept the virgin plains apart
As snow came down
And blazed my path, to be no more.


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