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riding like kill

It’s a wild fucking and bucking beast.

And I’m on its back.

Like that.

I have thighs that are muscular, eyes for the trust in her and a whip for your cracking.

But it’s difficult to tame.

Still, I know it can sit, like a pretty little pet, though it won’t let you forget; it’s better, he’s better, she’s worse.

And it hurts.

In a paddock of fading curse, things gone askew and disgustingly terse, I would rather you pretend you can’t see me.

I’m out on a hill; riding like kill and I won’t be back until it’s gone.

For good.

© ryan

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