Coming Back, I ThinkSet tongues on cold, icy waves of
resistance,
Sustain the melody for two whole notes,
And watch the crystal formations coagulate inside
her stomach.
Thin, translucent spindles of clear and
silver,
Underneath moonlit blinds.
A rise in tempurature, but the pulse
stands still,
And rises,
And falls,
And stops.
And tastes thickly of winter nights under
downy comforters.
Beads of water melt down kneaded sides,
That needed submission,
So fiercely she rides.
She rides and dives down into the waters,
Back up for air,
A choked gasp for air and she's
aspirate mid-resprise.
Amid the nails, blood sweat and tears,
Drowning so thoroughly upon the banks,
The ice cracked and blistered,
The formation spread so wide.
The timeless dance between sunrise and
evening horizons,
Anesthesia and aesthetics,
Orange glows and penetrating rays of...
....
Bleakness.
Blacks, crimsons, indigo stars.
Silence,
The den of decadence,
Negate her into the night.
Beyond the moonlit blinds,
And inside the sun.
The taste of her cream,
Cold like mint that freezes the bloodstream.
Hot ice liquified, only to freeze again.
Negate her.
Negate her again.
Negate me again.
-a-cappella/Mk (c) 2004
*luffs you*
Just thought I'd drop by and leave you a message, a thank you, and lots of squishy lovings.....
He he he....
--
--
A storm is rising.
--
"Nothing ruins a peanut butter sandwich like unrequited love."
-Charles M.S.
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