Bite your lips and sigh, my name
Rolls off your tongue, into my arms
You come, so long, awaiting
Your touch, your gaze, your breath
Ah! Bite your lips and sigh, my name
It sounds so sweet squeezing past your teeth
Longing steers, and deep thrust, through your soul
I touch you inside in ways that puzzles
The mind, and pleasures the heart
Beating to the rhythm of my to and fro
My ebb and flow, washing over your body
Whisking you away on a celestial trip
In and out of une petite mort
Never seem so sweet, deeper I slip
Again, again and again, you
Bite your lips and sigh, my name
I have of late taken the view that no matter how rebellious, unconventional, non-conformist we would like to think ourselves, we are at some point always part of a similar grouping of people. We are never truly leaders, but followers. Followers, I prefer to refer to us as sheep; because at one point or another in our life we are all sheep. This is a place to express myself, vent my frustration with the sheepdom, and relieve my boredom. It is my therapy for all that contributes to my neurosis.
Friday, January 14, 2011
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