Collect Call To An Unknown Lover
"You’re stuck between the past and present tense. You said you’ve been waging a war against so many years of lies. With stronger drinks and longer lines it’s not that big a surprise that you're feeling more dead than alive."
High and lost. Skin stretched tight to define bones and cage flesh. Sound climbs the body in subtle reverberation, clinging to the precipice of sensation, demanding catalogue and analysis where the mind has none. Sweat bleeds, stings, inflames. Tomorrow's discomfort is tonight's epiphany, smiling at a world of strobing colour and pinwheeling limbs through salt-blind eyes.
Initiation is trial by violence. Welcome to the pit. Find the rhythm, find abandon. Let it go and lose it. Don't look back. A creature of impact and camraderie, a heaving organism of faces and bodies and liquid flying like shattered glass, catching the light and patterning the skin. Tomorrow's tattoos come in staccato explosions of blood punched and kicked and shoved to the surface. No surrender. Fall only into a safety net of clutching hands and momentary friends, where wide eyes and shining teeth speak of hysterical arousal. Thought made plural, forever.
Memory picks the pocket of time. I remember your mouth framing words, the language of your posture, the clothes you wore. How your tongue darted between my lips like a starving predator, arid and desperate kisses to steal my lust and make it your own. Your body was soft and yielding, screaming submission while your eyes spoke control. Your hands were insecure, clenching and trembling and demanding touch. You were pure white clothed in hate black. I was a junkie to the needle of your desires.
Cold streets and the stares of the stumbling lonely. Each touch a tiny revelation, a preach to the converted. Nicotine dreams and alcohol nightmares. Skyscrapers stoop to stare. My kaleidoscope spirals and centres on your backlit beauty. Words are indistinct murmurs, communicating only in pitch and timbre.
Judged by and compared to the icons on your walls, rendered in the harsh glare of bare bulbs, naked before your want. Unclothed dents and designs carved in your skin, obscene graffiti, evidence of acts yet to be committed. Creep up between your thighs like a criminal. Inhale your secret scent, taste your insides. Watch your mouth find definition around my lust, painting climax in glistening transparency. Invoke Gods, call down curses, beg for sacrifice. Impale yourself. Bring your lips so that I might devour your sighs. Punctuate silence, wish it harm. Silhouette yourself against a background of everything; spine rigid, eyes white, captured in extremity.
Be mine.
High and lost. Skin stretched tight to define bones and cage flesh. Sound climbs the body in subtle reverberation, clinging to the precipice of sensation, demanding catalogue and analysis where the mind has none. Sweat bleeds, stings, inflames. Tomorrow's discomfort is tonight's epiphany, smiling at a world of strobing colour and pinwheeling limbs through salt-blind eyes.
Initiation is trial by violence. Welcome to the pit. Find the rhythm, find abandon. Let it go and lose it. Don't look back. A creature of impact and camraderie, a heaving organism of faces and bodies and liquid flying like shattered glass, catching the light and patterning the skin. Tomorrow's tattoos come in staccato explosions of blood punched and kicked and shoved to the surface. No surrender. Fall only into a safety net of clutching hands and momentary friends, where wide eyes and shining teeth speak of hysterical arousal. Thought made plural, forever.
Memory picks the pocket of time. I remember your mouth framing words, the language of your posture, the clothes you wore. How your tongue darted between my lips like a starving predator, arid and desperate kisses to steal my lust and make it your own. Your body was soft and yielding, screaming submission while your eyes spoke control. Your hands were insecure, clenching and trembling and demanding touch. You were pure white clothed in hate black. I was a junkie to the needle of your desires.
Cold streets and the stares of the stumbling lonely. Each touch a tiny revelation, a preach to the converted. Nicotine dreams and alcohol nightmares. Skyscrapers stoop to stare. My kaleidoscope spirals and centres on your backlit beauty. Words are indistinct murmurs, communicating only in pitch and timbre.
Judged by and compared to the icons on your walls, rendered in the harsh glare of bare bulbs, naked before your want. Unclothed dents and designs carved in your skin, obscene graffiti, evidence of acts yet to be committed. Creep up between your thighs like a criminal. Inhale your secret scent, taste your insides. Watch your mouth find definition around my lust, painting climax in glistening transparency. Invoke Gods, call down curses, beg for sacrifice. Impale yourself. Bring your lips so that I might devour your sighs. Punctuate silence, wish it harm. Silhouette yourself against a background of everything; spine rigid, eyes white, captured in extremity.
Be mine.
posted by Michael at 2:24 PM
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