untitled, untold

Vodka thins blood, thins lips---hot tongues and wishes from lungs invade my storm as guiding arms force virgin hands to till and plant on soft fertile lands--a temple worshipped with praying fingers, who wander for fear her taste won’t linger

But her name still sings here.

Running skin through soul, skull cuffed for pull, parted lips for apologies---our scent spreading love like some sort of disease, but please don’t see impermanency;
My words carry meaning that outlives my seed

So I read the lines and letters inscribed and mapped all the stars to heartbeats on breasts--a Corona Borealis from Ptolomy's chest---her pulse flies high like the skies seen within each dimension of vibration and sound---around and round kisses navigate aloud, leading their vessel 'cross printed silk oceans with waves swelling 'round areolas of bronze and nipples reaching out for an embrace so strong

So long.

So long; during and after we crashed in the natural disaster of blankets, sheets, thrown clothes, and heat--held thighs did meet slick hips in glee---blackened eyes greeted times of penetration with deep thrusts from times of telepathically told lust; just trust I won't ask questions concerning memories in dust

Jasmine.

sweet scents and sentiments amid the sarcasm of chain smoking deviants.
places betrayed and flowers made of passed paper planes.
lets share and toss these crumpled works of pesticide, poetry, and compliments.
blah blah blah we say and fly, fly, fly we aim;
for the uncharted skies we crave.
if only they were real,
if only we weren't worn out in the arrangment of letters or the entanglement of fingers.
we are great in this little world built by stop-motion mimes with more time than lines,
every frame captured as the essence to this massive illusion of confusion and crime-an environment filled by jasmine walls and pollinating stars.
there's no vacancy for the sad world between bars.