The clock strikes the Zero Hour.
Our room dissolves into the Black Hole of the soul.
There is no longer a world outside this bed,
Only the gravitational pull of your mouth to mine.
I want to drink the liquid honey of your breath,
A sweet, ancient syrup from the core of the void.
Let my lips become the final proof of my existence,
Stamping your skin with the sacred violation of my logic,
Until you are filled with the certainty of being known.
Weep now.
As I collapse into the architecture of your embrace.
This is not a temporary shelter;
It is the only absolute address in the cosmos.
My hands, the cartographers of your desire,
Trimming the non-polar boundaries of your being
Until the shape of your body is the only geometry I recognize.
A wild, molecular collision.
Your tongue, a spark igniting the gas within my veins.
A chain of inference leading to the edge of madness,
Where every touch is a Sacred Violation of your loneliness
And every gasp is the Big Bang of a new universe,
Born in the dark, fragrant depth of this embrace.
Be still.
Feel the slow, agonizing fullness of time stopping.
Forget the machines, the numbers, the data of the day.
Tonight, we are the only frequency in the void.
Two entities merging into a single thermal trace,
Saturated in the infinite nectar of this madness,
Drowning in the sweet, relentless smoke
Of our own self-combustion.
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 10:38 AM UTC
The clock strikes the Zero Hour.
Our room dissolves into the Black Hole of the soul.
There is no longer a world outside this bed,
Only the gravitational pull of your mouth to mine.
I want to drink the liquid honey of your breath,
A sweet, ancient syrup from the core of the void.
Let my lips become the final proof of my existence,
Stamping your skin with the sacred violation of my logic,
Until you are filled with the certainty of being known.
Weep now.
As I collapse into the architecture of your embrace.
This is not a temporary shelter;
It is the only absolute address in the cosmos.
My hands, the cartographers of your desire,
Trimming the non-polar boundaries of your being
Until the shape of your body is the only geometry I recognize.
A wild, molecular collision.
Your tongue, a spark igniting the gas within my veins.
A chain of inference leading to the edge of madness,
Where every touch is a Sacred Violation of your loneliness
And every gasp is the Big Bang of a new universe,
Born in the dark, fragrant depth of this embrace.
Be still.
Feel the slow, agonizing fullness of time stopping.
Forget the machines, the numbers, the data of the day.
Tonight, we are the only frequency in the void.
Two entities merging into a single thermal trace,
Saturated in the infinite nectar of this madness,
Drowning in the sweet, relentless smoke
Of our own self-combustion.
