Sunday, February 2, 2014

Teeth Churn On Ideas

A surprising light dashes from a place without coordinates and spills across skin that encases molecules and vocabulary and thirst and desire. Eyelashes beat at the same pace of a liquid heart that bubbles with heat and toys from a pocket below the belt. Lips full and lush, lit with a fire, stay still and silent as teeth churn on ideas that form into sentences and lay across the tongue begging to be transported into your skull by the percussion of kissing and the demands of wandering hands. Allow this exploration.  

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