giving phone...

 the very sound of her voice
some where between
a warm summer rain
and inside a blue crystal jar
smooth translucent, atmospheric
like soft porn
swelling roses  
tender touches
yet separated by oceans
her voice like hot tote
swaying me
feeling the contoured interiors
of souls ache
a bending ridge pole

hearts brake open
pouring
voluptuous milk
like a tapioca
its beads
bulging blood bells

drink suck lick eat
drown if you can

we speak
rocks in the throat
hello how are you
im choking on desire
fine she says
i want to fuck you
we start with a phone kiss
mmmuuuhhhaaaaa

yes she says
take me open me up
pour me into your mouth
soak yourself in me
show me your raw hunger
i will eat your dark edges

im shaking apart
with tenderness
may i touch your cunt
yes she says
her pussy like wet silk
can beauty bring tears
mouths touch tentatively at first
and then mouths eat mouths eat mouths
and tongues become fiends
cherry red pugilists
bites excite
im in the mood to bleed for her
eyes  smiling radiant
and souls rapture
hearts dissemble
and fuse
at a braking point
from
long hard years
of vibrant abundance
denied

trying to hold together
on broken wheels

now finding warm mud
to go bare foot in
to slide in
up-leaping
between the toes
to love you in
to roll around with you in
like fat little piggies
playing in butter
to fill you with slippery kisses in
and voluptuous caresses

that even our dreams can not apprehend
skin to skin
soul to soul
cock to cunt
so eager
fire engine red
tongues licking tears
beautiful breasts to bury my face in
like baby eating cup cakes
making us whole

we continents apart
from each other
having never met
wow wow wow
yet alive again
what a phone call

we say
good night
sleep my love
later
later
tomorrow
oh yes
have to go
love you
more soon
please
yes
oh yes
kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss

then stillness
a cornucopia of emptiness
hollow husk

tomorrow may be we will give each other phone again
and the land will turn fertile green once more
kissing holding
talking dirty dirty dirty
happy in loves fire
salvation
and the heart ever resounding
like tintinnabulating bells

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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