(Un)Touch(ed)
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.
Co-existence
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,
Swallowing.
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.
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
exquisite.
my tongue runs over your surface
even after the 37th time i'm still
in shock
i am seeing some happiness captured here
