fuck me poetic.
kiss me free of syntax
make me scream in tongues
pen me down with the bed as your scroll
smear my ink across the sheets
until every edition of webster’s and Koenig
pouring forth upon the both of us.
“exulansis” rolling down your back,
“silience” dripping from my neck,
“gnossienne” shared, mixed,
gluing our pieces together,
“opia” preceding that final
breathless, inspired kiss.