Buying Stylish Religion

we're all dancing in each other's misery.
sing me a song of ghosts and polite apologizes.
tell me all the wonderful things you want to know,
and the dark things that you know from experience.
shed darkness on my light, electrify my lust.
falling into a vat of dreams. dreams i've conjured
up inside of me and spread on thick like jelly to toast.
quicksand kisses, storming at my feet like waves of
a red sea, murky and hazy, calculating the precise moment
of my fall. falling. and i couldn't be drowning any slower.
wandering in on wonder making love to desire, the potion
it's creating is toxic and enchanting, beautiful and demented.
tormented ideas flood my sensory capacities and i can't
help but want you, all of you. the idea is naked.
exposed to the world for eyes to poke and examine,
for hearts to swarm and shatter. and tongues to crave
it's taste. wild minds flicker at the possible contact.
a surge of reckless moments inflaming a already
weak mind and sleep will not bring on slumber for
you cannot rest. the sight of you making mouths,
hearts, words, and souls quiver at the pure image.
vivid. naked. succulent. flamboyant - lust.
addicted, and you're know full well.
the symptoms are there, your vitals
are shot and you cannot focus on anything
other than these liquefied thoughts that
have you swimming in a constant swirl
of touch. of talk. of questions and of answers.
lighting up a skinny smoke as if the fumes
it will give off, will you give you answers
like the shake of an eight ball you wait..
eyes peered to the sky, and your buying
religion like it's just came into style.