Two Pieces by David Oprava

ITCH

he licks
the superego
wounds
wondering
what his seed
tastes like,
some salty drops
sticky like want,

rolling in tongues
over the barely
fallow bed,
he whispers
to the rough
wooliness
of her words,

are your prickly-
pains
just for me,
or anybody?

Fucking the smell
of the blanket he groans,
shallow bitch,
left him blue-balled
and itching.


TEACHER


I fuck a first grade teacher,

because

if a first grade teacher's
apple pie smile, butter cream hands
and need to care for the infantile
can't make me feel good about myself,

who the fuck can?

davidoprava.com