Saturday, July 18, 2009

Icy Sun

Every touch is lightning's strike,
Your body feverish, your hands like ice.
Trembling and twitching
With every move,
Anticipating a revel
That will surely ensue--

A pleasant hurt,
A painful joy,
Sending quivers down my spine.

Break your body
And soothe your soul;
I was never sane,
But that you know.

It's difficult to feel alive,
In a empty world so desolate.
Yet I now know,
My impulses are strong;
My body is flushed,
And your blood pulsates through me.

We become one,
One heated writhing mast
On the ship of secret desires;
We are golden, beautiful towers,
Yet we are filled with sin.


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