Red's Fever

 “I don’t have a dirty mind, I have a sexy imagination”



This is definitely, definitely,
for the grown and sexy,
fore if you do not know,
it is going to get messy.

I want you to write on my skin
all manner of sexual sin,
give free reign to the sensual
creativity you have within.

Let me be the masterpiece
you suggestively create,
where punctuations do not stop,
they highlight and accentuate.

Intelligence is an extremely sexy beast,
attention to detail positively erotic,
add to that male sensuality, to say the least,
you will produce within me a feminine riot.

Let your hedonistic jinn amplify
the pleasures you have built up inside,
let it be heightened with my vocal stimuli,
play it up with selections of verbs that intensify.

My skin, the canvas of your masterwork
is an extension of my femininity
allocated to record the words in verse,
the evidence, your male genetic burst.

The feathered caresses inscribed in your font,
I, your private magnum opus, bodily designed,
highlight your incessantly creative savant
with carnal knowledge considered divine.

I acquiesce, allowing you to orchestrate
all manner of licentious pleasures,
an arousing aphrodisiac that delineates
every action drafted in letters.

I have become your wonton concubine,
amplifying the gratification that you describe,  
with seductive endeavors that intertwine
on my ardent flesh with your licentious indite.

Gypsy Red