On the Itinerary of sloopy lament:

 

• There is no first affair to attend to,

purely undulating desolation perpetually sensual.

There is no last dish served but undone pains pampered by my puddly lips,

allowing you slump into incongruence,

denting a burgundy pillow of saliva

being washed with tangy fluorescent soap,

spilling sour candy from her pockets,

cleaning it making it official for government purposes.

Naughty wishes and sexy services.

Eternal loopers delivering dolorous procedures with yummy sprinkles.

If you don’t pray hard they turn powdery.

If you do pray hard they become wobbles.

Both will go soupy with a lisp,

causing you to crackle above ardor flaming,

porcelain volcano puffs blowing you.

In the middle you are suspended in her belly,

papery intimacy drooling on you.

• Underneath it's gloopy you are gooped to a glazed tub

soaked in glossy guilt of having rough skin,  

gross consistencies excluded

Humiliate me. It turns me on.

• Itinerario sensualmente desolado?