Electric, Distilled, Blown away Tuesday, Born again beneath your smooth skin and hot breaths upon my face, you stare down at me like some african goddess as you shiver and sway and rotate your hips of salvation upon me, and all my sins are forgiven each time you cry out my name. I need no god, I need no creed, I need no other beliefs as long as I have you to worship, my beautiful redemption, afterwards as we eat fruit, you smile and ask, "Round two?".