I want to crawl under the threads of your dreams and untie the lust of your sin and trace every scar and taste every tear and kiss all of your forbidden desires and I know its all an illusion and you are only smoke in high heels and thigh high whiskey dressed in pretty blue bullet lingerie yet my bones ache as I paint my hunger for what hides under the stars of your skirt and I want to feel the warmth of the soft spot lying under the small piece of cloth hiding the bud that I want to watch bloom and part with the gentle push and stroke of brush and fingers and tounge and kiss what honey will flow as all of our clothes disappear into the dark heat of temptation and and your legs cover my head and muzzle my breath and your heavenly scent has become my air and your devilish taste has poisoned my blood and my self control is starting to split at the seams and little pieces of me are seeping out into you and I'm tangled and tied to the vice falling from the whip of your hair unleashed  and I've become so weaved into your web that I can no longer tell whose limbs are whose and I can't remember which one of us is real am I the illusion of a dream or am I climbing after a mad vision of you and something smells of dust and flight and I took a wrong turn at the curve of the moon that I mistaked for your hips and I'm lost out here in the nowhere and never desperate to find a home in your kiss