pekoe

SPUR

I enter my room to hear my spurs
thumping against the closet door
Their low rattle, discernable only
to this urban cowgirl of the wild mid-west
their faint beats escillate
into a violent throbbing
drum beat against wood
...rhythmic...
I know what they want...
to be clinched in my fists
to feel my fingers grind each axel
to wrap it's leather straps
around my tough skin
for me to bite it's sweet leather
with my canines
to slick it's leather
with my tongue
preparing them for animation
animalization
action...
Cause, my spurs know when someones been BAD
I am their enforcer
helping them to explore the lush terrain
of supple bodies
Cause, my spurs don't kick no dirt
they want to travel and occupy
more than earthly-land
They've been spent, and pardon the expresion, spurned
but they are built tough
they are no trendy knock-off
but they do knock-off boots
Cause, my spurs don't tame no horses
but they do ride bare-back
hugging the sides of delicious hips
My spurs are sooo lucky to have me
cause they would be no good let loose
In my fists they are loose enough
jaws wide with little ribbed tongues
to eat you blind
so you should listen when they speak
bang, beat, clack, snap, tick, rap, jounce, flounce
pulsate
quiver
my spurs deliver
you to the brink
my spurs tease and teeth
you to the bone