tortured by the taste of touch
Where must these wisps of words lie?
When these limbs are lost and tortured by the taste of touch,
Let the sky hold our voices in a ventura vortex,
I beseech the sun to undress the stars,
our twirling twinkles aren’t meant to be locked in glass jars,
Hopelessly harboring the starvation for your grunts,
If you dare, pierce the navigating needle of night
Torment the twisted thread of the moon,
Sew the silhouette of our songs into the slopes of my skin,
Sultry seamster, sway the sounds of unspeakable sins,
Deep into the hidden places where I begin,
Make a madness out of my resisting lips until they comply
Corrupt the parts I pretend to play,
“a damsel in deny.”
Don’t let the sheets speak of the heat I hide,
When the tailored tints on these thighs were stolen for a reckless joyride,
Guide my graze along the spine of your abyss,
For the ridges of your lungs left an addictive ambiance,
Venomous ventriloquist, versed to veil the vixen of the vapors.
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