The Way I Do It.

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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.

©MVS