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Wet
here is a short piece I wrote a few moments ago, I was inspired by a piece of music. there has been no editing so don't judge like that.
Dry didn't even exist any longer. It was just some past phase that was left to sahara films and travel catalogues. The sound of the steady, drenching downpour rustled over all senses and left them dripping. My eyes felt moisture beyond tears. Mucus streamed out of my nose like I had a wavering pool in front of my brain. Some wax dripped like that of a candle from my ears, hardening upon my shoulders. I could taste the purest of the icebergs in Antarctica, and they dripped along my tongue with an icy snap. The smell was stunning. The perfume of wetness. Everything spilled and soaked. Not in the way the ocean feels the dense crush of miles of water though. Although everything was being rained upon, it still wanted life thereafter, but for now it just accepted and breathed in the moist enjoyment. |
Hmm...I don't really know how to critique this. As a narrative poem or piece of fiction, it's far too vague and wandering. As part of a brochure on the joys of oral sex, it's perfect.
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you fucking ripoff artist! those are the words to track 3 off scott baio's debut albumn. don't think you can get away with this, i'm reporting you to a moderator.
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not really, but thanks for asking
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