between your silky lithe thighs I fall through time, observe the past and future, the above and below, the outer side of all things
words I spill are mute, unable to convey the tsunami that draws upon me every time I dare to lift my gaze from the pristine lily pallor of your silky thighs and look past the shadowy ocean of tattoo ink spilt across your chest, right into your icy eyes stuck staring inside the nature of things, such as myself
such as the tsunami roaring within, trapping warped reflections from the outside, its scale fails to scare you as you stare and you stare, reflecting me in the reflected glare of the moon
overwhelming and bare, barely breathing, so still, robbed of color aside from the eyes, almost as freezing as the night outside
that awful stillness transfixes me, instilling doubt in the order of things, making me question the notions of the moon and the night and the rest of the gloomy routine that lies somewhere out of reach, decrepit and forgotten like skin long since shed, the whole world mere cardboard decorations outside the fragile frame of your silky thighs
skin so soft, smooth and thin, silvery in the eerie reflected sunlight stripped of warmth by the sateless night outside, a sacrilege, a sacrifice, pagan poetry in the murky depths of my nightly mind muting me
my universe is described by the processes hidden beneath your skin, the thundering pace of your pulse, circulation of liquids in your juicy flesh, the arcane language of secret secretions within
it's just a moment in conceivable time that will pass in a blink, slip past you unnoticed just like the rest of those fleeting seconds when I manage to sync with my body, otherwise overflowing, sinking in disbelief, when I freeze, afraid to breathe out the pitch-black scent of the reptile lurking inside