Daytime
yet my
eyes are closed
to the post-torrent
profusion
of colour
and
shape
Of multi-faceted humanity
moving like
Money
in search of
money each remotely seeking
his [or her] survival
I luxuriate in
an inner world modeled
on the honey
brown
of your
skin
accented by
the pulsing pink of the
nub
that hovers
like a switch
just ahead of my
surging
tongue
Eager
for sensory overload
Copping oaks and caramels and
fresh
nipple-tipped aureole
plums
like a
Master Blender
swirling
swishing
lickng
smacking
there's absolutely
nothing
lacking
from this
smorgasbord of love
Your menu
needs no
revision
highert oneness the only
mission
My unbridled passion has scared my
inhibitions
into submission because
you mean that much
to me
No comments:
Post a Comment