Friday, 25 September 2015

the velvet swelling of it

the full and ripe fulfilling
within my clasping hands
his only wish is to find its nest
in the dark and wet cavern
as my fingers start stirring over his silken skin
he begins to bud with serene twinges
in the sun of my hand it ripens out
into one glorious tumescence
as if he is the surging tide ruled by the attraction of the mystical moon
and eagerly lapping out to the hinterland
as if he is the dilating pupils of my intoxicated eyes
growing and brimming with restless lava
the hollow of my hand was made for
the velvet swelling of it
the core of my fleshy grotto was ordained
to be unlocked by the perfect fit of it
its reach goes beyond my blood and nerves
it pushes through to the core of my bones
right into the axis of my soul
suffusing my ramparts like irradiating red wine
thrusting straight into the heart of fruition
as he enters he illuminates the dusky chasms
turns me inside out
arching out to fill
the emptinesses of my body

No comments:

Post a Comment