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Old 11-27-2012, 11:53 PM   #1
So-Called New-Age(d) Poet
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Join Date: Aug 2007

In fractions, my gaze
is glassed by the way
your hand wrinkles the fabric
of the couch. You create
an ambience with
rhythmic inhales, but
I can’t lead when I’m dazed.
Right now,
you connect the dots
of my outline as you see
through my transparency
with your feline sight.
It glows underneath
the sheets where you build
an imaginary fort
with Egyptian hieroglyphs
to match with the lines
around your eyes.
They protrude when I
tell you to fuck yourself
but remain closed when I
kiss you for forgiveness,
until you get weary
of my tongue and I need
to find another path
to nest on your chest,
boring each road
to your soul.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” – I dive
my head between her legs
and lie.

Last edited by seventh_angel : 11-28-2012 at 12:07 AM.
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