By Terry Wayne L.    terry39@juno.com
Date: 30 April 2000

I Want To Bring You Death

I Want To Bring You Death

I want to bring you many things to offer up my love,
But of all the bouquets of roses
And missives of sappy poetry from my heart
The thing I want to bring you most is Death.
An Ecstacy of Death by Foot Massage.

This little piggy went to the market.
This little piggy stayed home.
This little piggy tastes like wine,
This little piggy likes my tongue.
But the littlest piggy squeals just before dying.

When my heart thinks of your musical laugh
And the little hairs prickle up
Right at the base of my neck line.
I think of Death.
A wonder of Death by Chocolate Sauce; Like Wine.

This little spot likes to be tickled.
This little spot likes my hot breathe.
This little spot trembles with just a touch.
While that little spot flushes with red
But the sweetest spot, the one that brings a hush
Is the one I almost forgot in my heated rush.

For what is a ocean of spasmic desire
If not a small death in a lovers embrace
One wished for, longed after
To be swept away into the pulsating dark
Transformed into pure emotion
Dead to the world, yet alive to sensation's holy face.

Terry Wayne L.

Thanks to 'Megs' whose phrase 'death by foot massage' was magic to my mind.