Falling into the feeling of an icy lake
Used to Hell's heat, the sensation burns more.
The Devil looks down unto the hole I made.
'This is the cold water we spoke of.'
He leaves me to swim.
Try
To
Swim
Sinking isn't swimming.

Consider an upright pavement covered in tears
Engulfed in several drops of liquid that's clear
They trickle downwards through gravity
Can get stuck in cracks
Or go faster through humidity

No matter how fast or slow
They all have one place to go
To the end
Where the body of water flows

As they trickle down
A single drop can manifest another in its path
If it gets too immense it's divided in two
Who travel a different route until another act of math

However,
There's always the drips of liquid
Not too small not too big
Who stay in one place
And are missed by the other drop's trace

But on these shower walls
Oxygen laced with hydrogen continues to fall
There's no room for isolation
For every square inch
Is covered in beads of liquid

Surrounding me with the four corners
I scratch the tiles to my left
Four lines with the tips of my fingers
Leaving to my right,
I do the same and turn back left to see what lingers

There was no trace of me
Because the flow of activity

So possibly
If we continue to surround ourselves in energy
Like the drops of animation
There would be no room for manipulation
Only room for movement, growth, and separation

If I could be God for just a night
I'd change the globe to this pavement that's upright
And every drop of you would be alright

I’m rendered powerless. Just about breathless. I watch as each layer of clothing gravitates toward the floor. Strip off the clothes that enveloped his beauty. My knees begin to fail me. Through his stare it feels as though he’s already probing every crevice of my being. Eye-fingers ravish me. He’s bare. My eyes haven’t left him. He smirks, refusing to leave me a spectator. Clammy hands penetrate the chill of the tile lined room. He strips me. I'm sure he senses me shaking.. goosebumps begin to rise. We step into shower. The tap is high, the temperature hot. The passion as well. He’s capturing me. Rapturing my frame, Grasping me. Gasping for me. He pulls me into him.. into the air. My legs incoherently wrap around him. The hot vapors aren't from the water, but our lust we heed. It’s wet. "Think ya can make it to the bedroom?" My throat closes. Barley touching, the pleasure, pressure, of his words render me unable to respond clearly. I nearly whimper out an answer. The smirk returns. This act meant for cleansing morphs into such a ***** one. I’m miserable within myself, the sheer amount of desire burns. Pushing me to the wall his body presses against me. He pushes into me. His hips. His lips. I feel him sliding in and out, violating, his tongue twisting around my own. His body as well. We’re intertwined...