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Morph in the Sensual Trapeze.

rewiiired

Bluelighter
Joined
Jan 20, 2002
Messages
1,802
Location
Chair.
A face morphs again
intoxication perhaps producing hallucination
either way, a telling illusion here below me
in a fervor fueled
by hormones, caffeine,
sleep deprivation

you're not her,
she visits as a dire reminder
of the catastrophe
that may await

a dark whisper
amidst the popping endorphins
the liberating foreplay
cacophonous in the muscular melody
dying for shred skins and depth of contact
and exquisite rhythm, an agonizing urge I should run from
before its too late for me to say no to myself
and to you if you voice the yes

she, she's just a venomous visual voice-over
slipping through fogged temporal lines,
bleeding through memory,
that my body refuses to yield to

that is all
that is not all

guess in an experiential way
moments like this are timeless,
yesterday melding into this evening, back again,
with this trick of light and shadow,
one person becoming another
in a transient trip into haunting surreality

I, I should not be here
too close to the line for comfort
having drawn it, I now inch closer in sweet hypocrisy
to stepping over it, diving into her,
forgoing any sense of decency
or allegiance to my ideals

just push me away, I say in cerebral,
as the below drives the rest of me on in bold defiance,
and don't pull me back when I don't fight

for tension is pushing my skin out,
my head has hit the ceiling
just say the word that will force me to quell before I break free
make me retreat before we both cave and give in

or are you stronger in this?

for I, in the least, feel myself sloping down
to the unethical and weak,
to the deep-seated need,
left just dying here in sensual trapeze.
 
Last edited:
"dying for shred skins and depth of contact"
^that line sounds fucking awesome, just aurally brilliant

I also a gree with Mehm about the flow / pace very appropriately frenetic

Nice job!
 
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