It seems so innocent, so pure, so out of place. Leaning forward, I flick it away with a quick, tentative lick, and I hear his breath catch momentarily... The taste of that drop is sweet, as is the sound of his breath above me, and I savor both immensely. But now that my tongue has just briefly caressed the all-important anatomy, I NEED to take him into my body, into my mouth. I move forward, slowly, allowing the bulbous tip to separate my painted lips, to violate my mouth. With my eyes closed, I. I've always demurred softly, pointing out that poetry is one of the creative arts that falls outside of a robot's skill set.Yet I cannot deny that over these last few short years I have now accomplished many other things that I once would have said exactly the same thing about.It would take much more than just that, however, to ever prompt me to try. Two other factors are also at work here.The first is my mind itself. Because it cannot be expanded in its present form beyond what it already is,. More

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