Thursday, August 9, 2012

Boa! Boa! Boa!


By Detroit Jack, Phallus Press Writer - Sun. Aug. 9, 2:57 am TT
Photos by Detroit Jack



Boa hugged the creases between the ceiling and the walls, ready to strike the only scent detected through the darkness of night . . . 


Slow random tasting of the pheromone ladened air, the thick silky atmosphere lay heavy in the dew of the late summers touch upon the colored skins of the hidden . . .  


Blinded by survival through a harsh fraught existence, gallantry abounding in a weakened body of being, at the mercy of evolution . . . 


Weary scales of damaged love guarding regenerated vessels of bloodied perfume to be lavished like Spring rain, washing away the doom . . .  


Coiled openly, unseen, heptagrams warning of potency and spell, that would enslave in rapture the choice of prey, bringing succor and warmth, in the ending hours . . . 


Paralysis laying out conscious eyes as clear stretching juices moisten the rigid lips of the feast at bay, glands swollen with perfumed sacks of heavenly musk . . . Boa struck.





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