Pen de la Pain
By Tom, friend of CelticBitch
The aroma of a just sharpened pencil
Beckons to you.
Your hand brings an instrument of destruction
Caressing the page
Then rubbing it raw into submission
And the page is bleached with your purity.
I stain like ink on your page
But your friction is cramping my flawless sense of style
…Do you need to be handcuffed?