The act of two becoming onetaking you into the yonder above me. hush, let me touch your soft lips. the blood from your split lip, surreal to my mouth. dont stop breathing, your air in my face, moist and imperfectly beautiful in my unseeing face. the clock ticks. one. two. three. but you still stay. one man on the street was watching our silouhettes, his tongue licking his lips, desperate to taste, but his dinner was only the sour bitter in the air surrounding him. let him be, for we mortals are higher in this dance steps than his worthy soul could ever grasp.the bed, a soft flower blooming in this unexpected hour. you creased your nicely ironed dress. a wrinkle in your cloth, and you moan with disappointment. laugh. a million children rushing out of your mouth. dont stop laughing, that joy in my head, alive and jumping through barbed wire with sadomasochistic pleasure. touch the sky, will you? hold it in your womb, and slowly sing it to sleep. whisper with me, "my child, you are now in morpheus arms.." the clock ticks. stops. ticks. stop. chasing that circular dimension with split stop precision. wonders. the moonlight on the floor. ancients imagine images on the surface of the moon. come, my dear, let us draw passion. love, lust, emotions into this soft intangible being. oh look, such a nice shadow, let me hold it for you, a photograph in your mind, plastered into the brain, by the flash of your eyes. wet drops of water on your face. glass tinkering in the carpetted floor. soft fur on your legs, interjected with sharp acute screams in the skin of your feet. holes on the floor, coloured red by devils climbing to the heavens above. hold my hand. quick. the sharp imagary of desires is too hard to contain. turned on. white. blank darkness. metallic clanking on the ceiling above us. dont stop walking, your steps are the only musics we make without experiences. tidal forms on our hands, seemingly holding us closer. dont look at the floor, dont look infront. dont look behind. just look at this entity in our hands. colours, they sink into your mind, a mess of emotions, cursed and havoc, chaotic and undesirable, you trash. but inside. inside your container, you feel this wind. winds of cold numbness carrying small tinges of orgasmic pleasure into your bodily nerves. a trillion knives trying to carve our niche on the fragile pale bodies. fluids fly, and the wall act as sponges, catching and savouring every droplet with unsurpassed desperation. tranquility. peace. the clock ticks quicker. tick.tick.tick. can't you count the seconds that went by? soft cooing in your breast, loud thumping of mother nature. the moonlight is gone. the sun's song is being played in our head. dont speak now. hush. listen to the breaking skin of noturnal calmness. there is nothing fake. hold me. fiction was above us. non-fiction was above us. we are low beings. but low as we are. we did what they couldnt do. You were one. I was one. but i once heard a song. It was by badly drawn boy. i didnt know what it meant. but we would now. You were one. i was one. and. one plus one equals to one. Justin ranted at 5:15:00 pm on the |