You bend
and almost break.
My pretty dead doll
skin pale as bone
spreads her legs
like a gate to bliss
now wide open.

Worship your white stone temple
words whispered from my thirst.

My hand over your mouth.

With tongue and fingers
I write my worship.

All zeros and ones
binary becoming
the form of my dream
out of the digital screen.

When I was sitting at home, considering suicide,
you were ******* someone else.
When I was too nervous to even go outside,
you were ******* someone else.
When I was staring down the barrel,
you were ******* someone else.
When I was needing love and protection,
you were ******* someone else.

And when I needed my
wife,
soul-mate,
friend,
lover,
more than ever,
guess what you were doing?

Yes come,
let's surround ourselves
with each other.

I want to spread you open
like the blank pages I use
to write on,
and cover you in the poetry
of my lust.

I weigh down on you
through sunset
and into the black.

I nearly crush your little frame,
reducing you into your safety.

Can you feel me?

Who are you?

I'm here,
waking in a sweat,
from a dream too sweet,
to let go.

The sky is greying
like an old man
and the clouds are so close
to crying your name.