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Synthetic Symphonia
solid to liquid,
~dripping~
thick paint on this canvas;
sexy fat droplets,
hip rolls on rivulets
sliding against
the repeating fugue
in a sultry dance
of heavy baritone
diffused into low static,
across the wanton stage
of synthetic fantasy,
an invitation to act
the luscious tempo
of ominous clouds
gathering low
in the sky,
of the moment
your head drops to mine
in submission
~give me what I want~
of kisses against the wall,
the undulating berceuse
inhaling and exhaling,
the pull and push
mimicking fingers
that won’t decide -
swinging the pendulum
between
owning my desire
and releasing inhibitions,
making hills and valleys
in the pressed front
of your safe and sensible
button-down shirt;
~catch and release~
leave you wanting,
these are the moments
I exist to find;
higher
the pitch climbs,
delicious anticipation
overlaid to perfection;
the dappling
of amalgamated melodies
climbs into eager ears
as tongues slide
into playhouses
where they give
a stirring performance;
outer snare drum harmonies
drifting languidly,
in mindless trajectory
down gooseflesh arms,
making themselves
comfortable
on the shelves
found atop hips,
~gorgeously gripping~
digging in deeply,
primal in their directive;
the words they speak
aren’t words at all,
but the messages
are deciphered
all the same,
and my throat sings
for you
~dripping~
thick paint on this canvas;
sexy fat droplets,
hip rolls on rivulets
sliding against
the repeating fugue
in a sultry dance
of heavy baritone
diffused into low static,
across the wanton stage
of synthetic fantasy,
an invitation to act
the luscious tempo
of ominous clouds
gathering low
in the sky,
of the moment
your head drops to mine
in submission
~give me what I want~
of kisses against the wall,
the undulating berceuse
inhaling and exhaling,
the pull and push
mimicking fingers
that won’t decide -
swinging the pendulum
between
owning my desire
and releasing inhibitions,
making hills and valleys
in the pressed front
of your safe and sensible
button-down shirt;
~catch and release~
leave you wanting,
these are the moments
I exist to find;
higher
the pitch climbs,
delicious anticipation
overlaid to perfection;
the dappling
of amalgamated melodies
climbs into eager ears
as tongues slide
into playhouses
where they give
a stirring performance;
outer snare drum harmonies
drifting languidly,
in mindless trajectory
down gooseflesh arms,
making themselves
comfortable
on the shelves
found atop hips,
~gorgeously gripping~
digging in deeply,
primal in their directive;
the words they speak
aren’t words at all,
but the messages
are deciphered
all the same,
and my throat sings
for you
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