domingo, 24 de agosto de 2008

Hands on

As I feel your body approaching
The head vertiginously spinning
My ears buzzing
The nostrils expand and I feel the smell of lust
Put your hands on the table

My arms get heavy and, paralyzed, they tilt
My fingers throb.
As I touch your flesh, I hear it crackle
It burns, it stiffens. At my command.
Put your hands on the table

I clench my fingers and they feel like embracing Desire itself
I bite your lobe and my tongue is traveling around it and beyond.
When the hairs of your forearm gently touch and intertwine with mine
You realize my presence. Too late.
Put your hands on the table

I get to know what you are, wholly, I have a hundred hands,
But more importantly, you are sure of it and fear not.
All impediments turn to dust.
I strip off all the morals and inhibitions, I crystallize the moment.
I tame my shame and not the other way around.
I am a hopeless slave to your handsomeness. But what a disguise!
Neither your body nor mine can contain it. I boil, you burst.
Put your hands on the table

I disalienate, I see and show. The self merges for an instant.
We fight, we see death and grin. I dive in after you.
But elude yourself not . I lead the dance.
Put your hands on the table and leave them there