Fall through the floor,
For it cannot be touched.
The face of life is lost
In intangible haze -
White of vision and noise.

It strolls into space.

Kohl eyes, soft, a
Confident stolen depression.
On the floor left untouched.

This decelerated void
Bares witness, the fix,
Pulsating to a svelte, familiar rhythm,
Seeping as of cool water through
Partitions of mere figment.

Numb, a cold blow, leather
Seats unknowing,
A still whisper falls in cloud
Dreaming reflection.

Light filters to a soft radiance.
Existence pulses to an uncalculated white-sound wave,
Seeping over mind into vision, then sinew.

I can hear you breathing,
Twitch on the ceramic tile,
On the floor left untouched.

Forever lost with you in one breath,
And when your cold hand touches me,
I'm untouched.
kevin doran
Cinnamon Toast

                i love you
        love that process we go through
        sometime on a lazy sunday
                lazy, crazy
        what we go through together.

        in the kitchen, atop the counter
        yielding to my kneading
        needing you so        these
naked      white        contours

        will enter the oven for just hot
        desserts, indeed you're
        coming. rise up to greet me
        golden firm

        calling out to me, you cry
        butter me thoroughly inside and out
        i'm only too glad to comply

                like always
        i'm drowning in an olfactory fog
        smells like cinnamon, sugar sublime
               sublime, each time
        drowning in verbs again

        i hold a phoenix in my hands
        you're so hot you burn my lips
        that have tasted you

        so dense crisp tumescent       sexy
in your hot splendour


        my tongue runs over your surface
        even after the 37th time i'm still
              in shock

        i am seeing some happiness captured here
Florentyna Leow