(revised)
Skin as smooth as silk, I drown
in your sweat, electric and invisible tears,
each vivid iris caressing seas of black
emotions, eyes to the hurricane,
my remaining fear and allure.
There's a pain at the heart of your softness
that you bury in this madness that
leaks through here in the sadist,
ever-pleasant for this masochist,
yet I find it forever suspicious,
and so prone to my analysis,
even as I saturate in our ritual
of primitive liberation
I forsake absorption to question,
but quietly,
far back in the black of the mind.
And as I build up rhythm to remember,
you say you surf it to escape.
All that we are, all that is we corner
like predators, sink our teeth deep into;
the road ahead and behind
abandoned in the dust that whips
and winds its way around us.
You guide my wide and cluttered focus
along the escalating ache of carnal waves
to its frothing collapse upon the
shores of the here and now,
where my mind finally becomes a still pool:
consciousness ensnared and static,
entranced by a melody of primal motions governed
by sacred gestures of sound, whispering
sweet and sour nothings through
involuntary expressions,
I lose my mind, brush my soul,
find some home here in the peculiar
glow of our presence
as we both sweat gasoline, so ravenous,
ecstatic to be so consumed.
Until, that is, I feel the wicked sun scorching
the Western horizon,
until your blasphemous words etch
this moment's epitaph, leaving my soul cold as stone
in my verbal retch and shudder as I bare
the pin-and-needle sting of this
morbid sigh in the wake;
until you leave me watching as,
with a lone, trembling finger extended
to the road ahead, you tear apart
the iridescent beauty of the crumbling present,
offer me the opaque question mark wrapped within,
and with this noose, already fashioned for me,
I waste no time swinging in suffocating silence,
to and fro across the gap of the unsaid,
patiently awaiting the moment the rope severs
and I can fall in grace and regain my footing.
Skin as smooth as silk, I drown
in your sweat, electric and invisible tears,
each vivid iris caressing seas of black
emotions, eyes to the hurricane,
my remaining fear and allure.
There's a pain at the heart of your softness
that you bury in this madness that
leaks through here in the sadist,
ever-pleasant for this masochist,
yet I find it forever suspicious,
and so prone to my analysis,
even as I saturate in our ritual
of primitive liberation
I forsake absorption to question,
but quietly,
far back in the black of the mind.
And as I build up rhythm to remember,
you say you surf it to escape.
All that we are, all that is we corner
like predators, sink our teeth deep into;
the road ahead and behind
abandoned in the dust that whips
and winds its way around us.
You guide my wide and cluttered focus
along the escalating ache of carnal waves
to its frothing collapse upon the
shores of the here and now,
where my mind finally becomes a still pool:
consciousness ensnared and static,
entranced by a melody of primal motions governed
by sacred gestures of sound, whispering
sweet and sour nothings through
involuntary expressions,
I lose my mind, brush my soul,
find some home here in the peculiar
glow of our presence
as we both sweat gasoline, so ravenous,
ecstatic to be so consumed.
Until, that is, I feel the wicked sun scorching
the Western horizon,
until your blasphemous words etch
this moment's epitaph, leaving my soul cold as stone
in my verbal retch and shudder as I bare
the pin-and-needle sting of this
morbid sigh in the wake;
until you leave me watching as,
with a lone, trembling finger extended
to the road ahead, you tear apart
the iridescent beauty of the crumbling present,
offer me the opaque question mark wrapped within,
and with this noose, already fashioned for me,
I waste no time swinging in suffocating silence,
to and fro across the gap of the unsaid,
patiently awaiting the moment the rope severs
and I can fall in grace and regain my footing.
