poemranker ::Terminal by kingit

DetailsThe poem, its numbers, and the conversation.

Free verse № 77488

Terminal

Member since 2003 · Posted 10 Dec 2003 · 1 comment

...and once she has felt what I have placed inside of her the tepid wetness begins to seep from her crimson, velvet pump. The prong sank deep. I suffer- she makes certain price, cost too high, Dear- And I am slaughtered, like One.

Rate it

0 is the worst, 10 the best. Pick a number, add a comment if you like, then send it. Keys: 0–9 pick, Enter sends.

mean 5.00 weighted 5.00 rank 7982 views 208 View voting details →

3 votes so far. Yours would make 4.3 votes so far

1 comment

[8] SupremeDreamer 10-Dec-03/6:42 PM Reply
Blessed with eight.