I Want To Write Poems,
All Over Your Body,
And Pray That,
Whenever I Turn You On,
It Melts All Over
This Angelic Carpet.

The More You
Grip & Scratch
This Skin
Gasphing On
How Good
This Body Moves,
Wondering About
The Perfection
Of This Pleasure.

I Really Do Hope
You Realize That
I'm Just
A Consciousness
Trapped In
Your Mind.

You're Absorbing
My Sacred Fantasies.
And
Only Pleasing Yourself.

I've Made
A House
For You
In My
Soul.

Is It Me?
Am I The Reason
People Always
LEAVE?

Hold My Hand
Tight,
Sit On
This Tree
With Me,
And We'll
Watch Metors
Filled With
Immortality
Powers
Fall Underneath
Our Sunkissed
Lips
Stalinizing
Our Exsitence
Of Being
Human.