so sensual

by
kiss me, —
on the neck,
shoulders,
words,
on everything
that comes
in your mind,
you about me
to remember
back and far
with love,
longing and
caresses, —
so sensual,
kiss me...


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The Ghost Song

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it may have been in pieces... but I gave you the best of me Awake. Shake dreams from your hair, my pretty child, my sweet one. Choose the day and choose the sign of your day the day's divinity. First thing you see. A vast radiant beach and cooled jeweled moon, couples naked race down by its quiet side and we laugh like soft, mad children smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy. The music and voices are all around us. Choose they croon, the Ancient Ones, - the time has come again, choose now they croon  beneath the moon beside an ancient lake. Enter again the sweet forest,  Enter the hot dream, Come with us! Everything is broken up and dances. Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding, Ghosts crowd the young child’s fragile eggshell mind. We have assembled inside this ancient and insane theater to propagate our lust for life - and flee the swarming wisdom of the streets. The barns have stormed, the windows kept - and only one of all the rest to dance and save us from the ...
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my steps sound in the rhythm of your thoughts thoughts that are calling me out in your dreams dreams kissed smoothly on their velvety skin, skin perfumed luxuriously with exotic scent, gently and alluring alluring and charming connected at the voice of a nightingale a nightingale on the fold of stars and moon's wrist, singing singing in its abandon, the pure essence of our carnality
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nightmares are fond memories

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the longing's light is on, — about an hour will let me chill out; the mental pictures urge, — i'm faced with all you'll do to me; frissons and butterflies rouse, — my eyes utter what my mouth can't; in love with the present, — the moment lives me, i live it, too; your joy was to please me, — nightmares are fond memories; orgasm tacit in unison, — you smile, i smile, — sleep tight; ⟮my un p'tit je ne sais quoi is lured to the poetic Stockholmsvy⟯ trick
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are you looking for someone to love

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yAyAyA

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to balance the imbalance of some days, verify your soul volume,— one portrayed and discreetly arranged by your heartbeat with the temperature of your blood and mad pressure of some detouring stories systematized by the texture of your mind to rise the sound speeds of my whispers inapt of uttering, I love you I miss you... to balance the imbalance of some days, ain't nothin' wrong to check once more the timbre and vibration of my feelings
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watermelon sugar

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in the breath of a buoyant thought, your traces which caressed me softly, are bulldozing now, bestial mirages 𓇼 you walled me in watermelon sugar to look like an altar, where you love to kneel, sniffing thru my laced hints 𓇼 even your oceans gasp inside me, using thrilling brutality of a butterfly, woven with the litany of your teeth
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