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BARNACLED ROSETTES

Baby, the sight of your barnacled rosettes
Drives me wild
Gives me the irresistable urge
To push my rigid eyestalks up your breeding tunnel.

O baby, please let me sample your oestral juices
With this chemotaxic proboscis.
I wanna sequence the neuropeptides
Dripping from your metatarsal glands.

Honey, of course I respect you.
Here, lick my sternum:
The taste of my thoracic mucus
Should tell you
All you need to know
About my intentions.

Satisfied, love?
Now can I slide my feeding tube
Down your slippery ovarian trough?
O baby, you taste so good
Makes me wanna do
Something perverse to you with my mouth.

With my lips and tongue
I wanna excite our circumambient nutrient fluid
And stimulate your lovely otic organs.
Yes, I'm scared too.
Can you taste it
In my mucus?

Baby I know
You're a nice tweezle
Not a naughty urkalack
But when you feel my vibrations
I'd like you to do it back.

Yes, of course I respect you
Honey, read my mucus.

I know it's physically near impossible;
These parts evolved for other works.
I know it's an abomination;
It's forbidden by the church.
I know it's an outrage;
It's outlawed by the state.
But you and I, let's do it, love
Let's lingui-aurally communicate.

Honey, don't walk
Let's talk.

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