Saving My Sanity, One Fuck At A Time

your silence  
cuts  
through the bullshit.
makes me take stock of the solid
makes me realise reality bends to no mans will but blooms like wild flowers.
 
The scent of honey and nectar
sweet against the torture
of a predilection for bitter
coffee on your tongue.
 
Sparks can be grounded
can be discharged
can peter-out
but I prefer the explosion of two
opposing forces colliding together
in the wet.  
 
we form to each others
kinks and desires  
malleable
breathless
the ripple of which is still etched
into the charred remains of my fingers
 
the tiny spark of a lighter in the night
curls of smoke rising from your lips
from your skin
as I exhale
the taste of  
your terrifying elegance
 
the mess of your sex
clings to me
as if its salvation
as if the madness of man
can be drowned
and it resides in unholy unions of our debauchery
 
your hand resting lightly
on my still throbbing cock
you coo in my ear
snuggle in
still shaking