To rolling mounds of splendor here I gaze
Enthralled by that which on my heart now works
None can their eyes avert from her these days
Once starts the magic of her awesome twerks

We know that once it starts it must soon end
For that divine bounced ***** cannot last
And be it love or lust there is no friend
Who can resist round **** and jiggly ***

Still there are those fanatics who repress
And Carnot says all things which start must stop
When not much more can this art form express
Than she may still achieve losing her top

So long as eyes can see and mouths can drool
So long will twerking make men into fools

We both were aboriginals.

Knowing nothing but to rely on primal instincts, we only knew how to devour. Using tactics on how to conquer each other as if beguiled by omniscience.

Carnal instincts propagate as we continue to intertwine our own bodies, matching each other’s cadence. Not even Clausius nor Thomson or even Carnot could determine the Temperature that both our bodies emit.

Lost in the heat of the moment, we continue to confront in sensual interaction, as if taken a drug that took us high.

We both let out melodious keys that resound symphonically. As if tranqualized, we lay there, our bare skin covered in sparkling translucent sweat. Our eyes coincide, within them, a faint trace of sweetness mixed with heat and love. Our cheeks, colored like plump cherries on early spring.

Lastly we close our eyes and drift within the dreamland. Guided by Hypnos himself, we transverse the foreign land, with nothing but the burning memory that made us melt like candlesticks that once held a majestic flame.