C & K

VSS: Creme Brulee

With a lick of the spoon,
your toes curl.

The taste on your tongue,
your senses heighten.

The warmth down south,
the feeling builds.

With the last spoonful of Creme Brulee,
you climax and fall off the chair.

A wild punk rocker,
rage and riot in the house,
solitude rebel.

Under the starlight,
you beg the full moon to save
the Earth from the sea.

Journey to the coast.
We borrow the sea and swim,
then dance on the sand.

An empty feeling,
the loss of another dawn;
you prefer twilight.

Blue and yellow blend;
A designer bridesmaid dress,
green beside champagne.

Intense Petrichor.
A Fervour for rain dancing,
naked and muddy.

The weight of your words,
heavy on my broad shoulders
as the night sets in.

Idyllic farm scents;
breathe fresh air
and
smell cow dung.

Watching the
repetitious ads,
and the
annoying jingles.

You paralyse
our minds with
the stupidity
on the screen.

Fed up, we only
watch ad-free
reality television.

Watching a show
about miniature
goats going on
celebrity dates.