Simply smouldering to touch – either way they’ll have it
A man of means after the next, utter ogle-eyed respect for a far more heightened sense of saturation
To treasure soon as aforementioned breaches said surface – presses these lips to equip these fine one-at-a-time minds
Of all that is entirely passionate
They stand and natter akin to fast-rewind 1969, when curves created absolute second-to-none hone on in
He’s been imagining a far simpler, albeit headier generation all over again
When promiscuity was seen to appear to be the most beautifully natural thing in this whole deliciously unknowing world of theirs, never so much as ours
We miss the touch

Beth Ditto, don’tcha know

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