when you speak
a tiny little spark
erupts into flame
a mute scream is not seen
and pain is not plain, but
words are an aphrodisiac
to a weakened state of mind
little tiny bubbles of pleasure
fizzing in sizzling veins
leaving all the troubles behind
talk like there is no tomorrow
you must say all that you think
chatter non stop
and the world will pop
like little thought bubbles
floating on a raging stream
cry like your heart is dying
as it sits in the hand of a lover
beating it's last
for it stood fast
before it knew it was over
scream like it hurts,
like it lusts
like it will never be the same
scream like pleasure finally
became pain, then scream once again
when you once again
become sane, if it still hurts
scream until your insane
*do it all, even if it hurts
do not dispute
never, ever become mute
dedicated to the most magical Joel Frye, he encourages me, enriches me, believes in me but, most importantly, *sees* me :)