Our mouths feed on this wet-fire, voracious
down the sweet path. All of your tongue and I hold the source of you, is this
true? But your tongue, deep into me, severs my mind,
knows me. My third degree sorrow suddenly healed. Your honesty engorges
me, as I am stunned by this onslaught of intimacy. I embarrass myself, fussing
with feelings to slow dance down your secret, kneading these thoughts to repel
your insatiable surrender. It scares me, to go back into my life after living
in you, the way you have me by your tongue. I am weak with reason and strong with
what I can not deny. Your body is shaking me alive. I am might at the feet of
your quivering. My will as rubble before your maze-filling storm. I-could-take-you
is an act of getting small. I run from you're-everywhere, wanting separation
from you're-absorbing-me. You’re expanding with boa constrictions, feeding on
me. You ignore my self-pity, eating the good parts, biting into my experience
with a sensous venom. I must not struggle to stay alive with my-dying-into-you.
I can't stop what is coming out of me. Please help me take off my experience. I
can't be this empty and not know my heart. Fear vanishes as much as my light overwhelms.
Here-I-am, out of my mindlessness as mouth, running out in front of me to say. “I'm-not-the-same”,
yet it having no sound, not even to me. I am tender shoots for your sucking,
the child-meat of your chew. Send me your savage. I am basted in a sauce to
heighten your appetite. There is a ravenous fungus breeding delightfully all
over me. The frenzy will leave through its skin for mine as yours. I will have
none of it as separate, trapping it, writhing and squirming without surface as
our ignited tongues, desperate together, emerging as one . . .
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