Untitled from helen ralli on Vimeo.
The text:
Prior to it turning sour, we walked along the coast.
The hair on her neck was red, she had a tag on her forehead & her skin was brown.
My skin was browner, meaning that I always had a slight advantage, of which I could only make up for by means of prick or fried chicken.
I was not an overwhelming success in the nether regions, but she was a very small girl & it didn't take much force to make her shake.
I was not an overwhelming success in the nether regions, but she was a very small girl & it didn't take much force to make her shake.
I guess you could say that her hunger for the bucket hindered her figure,
but in the heat it was neither snake nor chicken she was craving for... it was lucozade.
And how I did like to taste her tongue after she swallowed.
Liquid gold.
This, however, like too many pleasantries, carried a problem.
This, however, like too many pleasantries, carried a problem.
My woman was not one for teeth brushing & after an hour or two,
the nectar regressed into something more potent.
The fizz lost, benzo badness leeking into her bloodstream, just to be sure,
''Inner inhibition is becoming a necessity!'' she'd say to me.
I just wanted to twist her when she threw that whopper.
But such a jigger jigger opening.
And until I laid a wet one, everything would stay that way.

No comments:
Post a Comment