We’re back at hers and I’m like finally
Watching orgasm climb her spine
In and out, in and out, riding is tidal
We’re not high enough, take tide pods
Black as pitch, out walking around the pitch with all the wicked witches
From my eyrie roof, roads resemble stitches
Do you want a bit? Just a pinch.
Almost lynched, slipped and sprinted
Into a river, emerged glistening
Everything I need in a pinch
Imbued with wisdom, curse is lifted
New currents, the pitches shifting
The ditches filling
Filthy water loitering rank in rilles.
Alchemisland 
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