Aubrey Asylum Poet I do not know?

Headphone Vixen

Music thumps and echoes in her head,

She recognizes the rhythmic style, the harmony, the lyrics echoed upon her walls,

Writing over the countless already written there.

She traces the notes on her thigh, counting the beats, and pausing at the rests,

Her tongue fingers the ring on her bottom lip, and her hand strokes over her 
stomach,

Her prized musician rests between her thighs at her womanhood.

She takes the cord within her mouth, the music pulsing an exuberant beat,

That causes her heart to beat faster,

The euphoria of love-making the music causes,

—Diving below into my naked folds—

she strokes bare flesh, to seduce the seemingly invisible lover upon her bed,

—Touch and play my wanton violin—

erotic swing of hips causes her breast to bounce free of its restraints,

—Louder and louder, the music loves me—

she lets her fair and dangerous lover take her hands away and put his own 
instead

—Beating and pulsing, my sex throbs—

his tongue teased her experienced flesh,

—I’m a whore for letting all these lyrics seduce me—

as his hands began a dance,

—Headphones Vixen, addicted to my many lives; my many lovers, stroke my 
notes, and taste my melodies—

He began to descend her restrained flesh, feel the erotic sways and skilled 
fingers,

—Throbbing, climax, the final notes mark against my thigh again, another lover 
leaves its mark on my body—

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