Amygdali

This brain has ripened its bruises, and bursted in a desperate spasm of words, words, words. My lips slip, pucker, and fold, twin gods Enlivened, electrified as they mold the steady "Om" of my throat, to thoughts, to thoughts. They are tenderly birthed to you for a cold world Bloody, waxen, and new Squirming and eager to meet the skin of your ears, man's bold anvils and hammers, to untamed, unconquered vines, your Mind! And how I throb without will for its sparks! I will slowly swim against the rush of you axons, mate your soma as if I never loved. I would gladly absorb into all of it, would fuel the hurricane That sends its rubies down to the soft earth, if Only I'd be a small observer kindly tucked in the pinky folds of your thought-wad.