"4.18 Of 30: Devil On The Dash"

"Devil On The Dash"

Angel riding shotgun.
The scene around us scenic.
Sitting stuck in traffic. ...
My heaven sent obscene wit.

I crooked.
Her vowels just as curvy.
Moments over lonely stretches
where we owned the road,
swerving.
spilling our
essence across the strip.
My ambition.
Skin that glistened
as I aimed to strip her naked.
I reach under.
Increased wonder
and made sure she never faked it.

Baked it after stirring.
Advances after flirting
unnerving
so my jacket
stays on my lap.
Ready to run laps
between trucks and trailers
with an engine full of danger,
excitement and anger.
Familiar flavors
that have rendered my tailored
threads to mere floor mats
and body towels.
Her celestial orifices hollow
waiting to
suck,
swallow,
tuck away
and devour by the hour.

Wicked power in her grip.
Hands slip past my zipper.
Slippery already.
Weight getting
heavier in her hand.
Plans to apply pressure
and alleviate the tension.

Forgot to mention
the lapse in suspension
as I slam down on the pedal.
Broken glass and metal shrapnel.
Grappled with this seat belt.

Felt subtle whispers
become cackle.
Her subtle tone
morphed into
the growl that of a jackal
cornering its prey.

Careened along the way.
Dunked into the bay.
Sunk deep that day
after kisses from my angel...

...a truly gorgeous death.

~ Society Of Poets ~

 ~ 30 ~

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz