I dreamt about an itch
this kind produced a lust
to which there is no switch
whose knightly creme is just
a junkie's crave for drug
the famine starved for food
this hunger yearn has dug
internalized and brewed
uneasy now to find
this meat to satisfy
for most have now gone blind
transfixed into a lie
the lie that itch is skin
without the heart that beats
to tear the surface sin
without the soul it greets
my hunger is much more
than taste betwixt her thighs
internal skies I soar
achieving greater highs
while others seldom care
to find what they can't see
I'll wait for skin and air
to cum inside with me
~Moses Apollo
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