My Phospherent body of raisin skin moans and swells like a process of Spirituality with fingers clinging your mouth, your scars, your lips, your teeth and your heart of surrealistic reverie. I become a thunderbolt, in the opulent windows of dreams and smiles wearing your white shirt, I swing. I swing like an autumn leaf, cascading down your throat, that black spot on your chest You thump and palpitate my arms. Spring is born between our naked lips. The temperature of cold walls crack in the slices of Orion blue. A stardust drinks the entire Constellation Life trembles and illusions occur. I breathe you somewhere between the spaces of my index finger and my thumb now. I wear your sins on my mercury tongue levitating branches and seeds of satisfaction, darling.