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If I Were A Carpenter

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Summary:
macabre

I am not carpenter but I built my mind like a playhouse where
my demons hangout…with a scalpel, I peel back the skin on her thigh, just to watch her bleed, and as it trickles, I die a thousand breaths as my cock throbs and the cum rises, spilling over the sheets, listening to Johnny Cash sing…”If I were a carpenter and you were a lady.”

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    1 COMMENT

    1. Goddamn! I couldn’t help but seeing a man using a carpenter’s plane on a woman, not a scalpel.
      I think I am going to listen to Johnny Cash now. Good poem. Not what I had in mind for erotica, but a good poem. Well done “)

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