Ah, what else to do on a Sunday afternoon. Sketch, reflect on the last week, my surgeon and my neck.
All seem to be on the mend.
Lightning strikes me baby;
oh man, it does.
All tapered strings and
such light moves.
Downward licking –
the voltage makes
Give me shake and
push me raw –
I want to
hurt down low –
Your shrill voice
in one dimension –
In realtime, like rocks to brains.
You touch my toes;
give more than all could after.
Your men admire your tumble,
the reach of
tongue and your
tap of shoes.
Look at you, see with eyes so closed.
You wow the crowd.
Heaven from lungs
Fuzz Fuzz Fuzz and
Chill me while my teeth lay – clenched.
You never fail to raise my bumps.
Don’t go, please, stay.
2012 Barry Comer – Illustration 2015
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