You don't see* these hues nor these cocoa grayish tones—you mess all over with spilled milk, take my silk from my open womb—spin with it webs from my ovaries—blanket you every night with clouds above your eyes—you take another hit, you fill the room with smoke, but I don't understand why you can't carry anymore—shades of delight, heavy beams on me—can't get up, I'm stuck on you—can't get enough, I **** from you—I do notice remnants of vibrancy in front of my eyes—behind the view—before you, too—neon colors in spaces of white.
No one should take control of this magical affair / no one can lay their eyes over your morning glare / this evening dew / resembles you / intense heat behold my eyes as you dabble over there /
and You never miss a beat while we sing and dance from here / shades of delight, indigo you / sheets of pleasure, I roll under you / spill of rapture, I dip into you / curtains of light, I plash onto you.
*[All I see are shades of delight twirling as if coffee creamer were dribbling into a cardinal mug like weighted paint, heavy trucks weighting on my shoulders in traffic between shoulder-blade-cones, heavy chests, large sounds, heavy breathing; red bulletin, over-hued saturate feelings of cold that never cross my mind; hurricanes unfold furling faster through the nile, namelessly opaque; the coconut astringent alternative never works, toning my skin with no toner; foresting wild, forthcome you, forthcame me, breathing in your smiles, hold me, too; Floridians laugh, cocoa hued, see swirls and whirls of miles floating like endless butterflies pulled from the root up, the pulled road drapes over my hedge like tarps of pomegranate.]
****** number 5.