it is without guile or guilt

more a minor shock & swoosh,

that the power to please oneself

comes so easily without interference,

new and the familiar, a mixture of

stand alone, but jumbled, mumbling &

partying in concert, inflation inflicted

words within, falling out onto personal

plains of skin of human vegetation, into

human orifices to be tongue-tasted, be

drunk by ears open for sensuality, be

touched, fondled, pressed and creased

for storing in the bank of memory, by

irrigation of eye droplets falling from

all human’s white sight~gatherers, by

nostrils flaring, reddened by waves

of excitations and pleasured anticipations,

whenever your new combinations of

words intermingle me, a step closer to

a being, drinking in additions whole,

achieving a holier than previous

experience