The moss is bubbling green
Water falls, steaming the rocks
She sits there tearing her long dreads apart
Blood trickling down his sorcerous thumb
Nearby you hear the cheetahs roar
Hungry growls, weak prowls,
Buzzing of the bumble bee
stings, the croaking of the yellow frogs
She sits there tearing her dreads apart
Under her, he reaches for the tongue
Bites it. Disappears.
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