There will be a digital trace

Of this in the morning,
And I will know
That I was alive

It starts
deep within
just flames
licking fire
tripping up
my spine
in crackling desire
spreads through my pores
in heated, close beats
releases its high
from my brain
                to my feet
The slow burn
in my solar plexus
spreads in hot surges
waves of wildfire
pulsing in white-hot urges
right down
to where
it really takes off
rushing through my
my cells
never pausing to stop
One can go mad
from that torrid,
thick heat
            every day
so I will trill
into my music
rocking my chair
as I play
feeling the vibes
within the rush and the beats
from the top of my head
to where these velvet
                 thighs meet
like the blazing
mirage of a summer
heat wave
releasing
                  the flow
of all that I crave
close-channeled
energy siphoned
into other spheres
so much like heaven
it squeezes out
                       tears
late desert
         summer nights
naked under
plush covers
my tunes and my pen
are my only lovers
it burns for a while
slides into
ecstatic bloom
and then catapults
back up
in a frantic
heart boom
this is my world
when I am
in charge of my own
            rhythm and tunes
playing them out
like mysterious flumes
this is how my passion
                                  unfolds
when I choose music for a set
I start off contemplative
       and end up wet
So I will take this ink
let it spill upon the page
wield the sword of my
                          slick waters
free my soul
from her cage
like a silky animal
running to cool, shaded brush
I will save up this
passion
so endlessly
              lush

This morning
I saw the smallest flower
tucked deep inside
a group of much bigger flowers
it didn't belong there
it wasn't part of the group
it wasn't even the same kind of flower
but you know what?
they were all getting along just fine
maybe there's a lesson to be learned...