Chemical Reactions

If you were like aluminum, you would be one of the most abundant substances in the earth crust. However, the sacred 13 is not kept by your name. You are more like Scandium, a rare but free agent, able to access your privileges of your atomic 21. You eat up everything that was laid down to keep […]

Train Membrane

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The heartbeat of your stimulation beats in syncopation with my desire to please you.

You breathe very slowly, as I inhale the detailed whispers of what you anxiously await, to uncover you.

There is a train in the membrane, which climbs to the height of our awaiting passions.

Your hands write onto my back, the secrets of gratitude.

You claw a print onto me gently; yet very passionately. I thrust into you deeply, and your sighs recognize the power, enveloped within my passion.

Your canvas has shown me yellow chakras a liken to sun rays.

Your hair is sizzling and your pulse calmly speaks of eager anticipation.

I am paraded through the fire that belongs in our eyes.

I no longer insist that we keep our cool, as the flames eat us alive.

My love for you uncovered us in the cold.

The heat is sufficient enough!

While you’re pounding heartbeat scribbles your lifeline, my drums signatures my thirst for life!

In many emotions, my mind is like a train, and the membrane is enveloped in my present passions. I remember writing this piece when I gazed at a shy angel at a party. She was too shy to speak in detail with me. I somehow could tell by the sweat of my suspicion there was a narration, that would begin when she shook my hand. All of this is innuendo and none of it truly summarizes the actual. That is what makes a metaphor, a clever designer! What you read is tempted to persuade a sense of sexual heat. Behind the door of sensual and sexual invitation is the knob of broader expressions. Expressions which detail other mannerisms. which dance in my mind. It’s more than the mere mention of taste and intimacy, the train is what institutes a track of arrival. I can’t derail off the tracks when the focus is within a membrane!

Sex Shuffle

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Shuffling between the cards laid about between my deck, many strangers of games – gaze in my incentive.
Aliens are these strangers with a unique knowledge that seems familiar.
They speak of this muse and how long she sought to travel down the line and within a consciousness of root.
She begged me to go deeper.
She closed my eyes with the whispers of her satisfaction
Then I woke up in the dream of her own existence.
Who was I really looking at anyway?
My vibrations begin to deceive the bed where I lied.
The question is: Do You Lie?
If you’re talking about if I sleep or not, yes I do.
I lie.
But it is not a lie of deception.
The more I try to explain, I then, I lose half of the reasons she came to me.
It happens so fast, I squeezed her frame and she reminded me she was only that a frame.
Many selections are now in play and they gather with a sequence of sex.
Sex which shuffles the cards of game or reality?