electric touch

gets me punch-drunk

on lust:

shed conservative skin

with the aid of

concrete fingers

running rampant

down supple exterior;

teasing white heat,

leaving rosies, posies,

ashes.

feeling real.

prancing on

moonlight sonatas,

shoving past forget-me-nots,

love trains,

daisy chains,

sweet everythings.

being free.

loving your psychadelic

baby's breath

&blinding possiblilities

of unwanted nothings,

quick

hard

fast

unmentionables

escaping reality.

time/space

bound together,

moshing between

the wet thighs

of desire.