Grip

Two legs atop your face

You got your tongue in her favorite place

Four hands set an evening pace

Perhaps the why to a conscious race

As the salt trickles down her spine

As the hot in her legs meet mine

As the blade of her lips connect

I find my grip fasten around her neck

Grip around her neck it make a bitch so wet

Fuck her take a shower then we fuck again

Fingers feeling Flower blooming cryptic red

In her lies a serum for this earthly dread