untitled 4.

I am restless
tossing and turning
awake again
in that bed I haven’t slept in for so long
reclaimed and reawakened
by my senses
feeling smooth like scotch
feeling a bit dark and twisty
something sort of sordid
tasting of black licorice
laced with the hotness of cinnamon candies
reacquainting myself with the deviant inside
yet feeling like I have the blues
those slippery soulful songs that sound best on vinyl
those notes that linger like long strands of cigarette smoke
twisting round my fingers
when I try to avoid eye contact
I am restless
thinking of skin on skin
in dark rooms
barely illuminated by the sky outside
allowing instinct to guide hands
mouths, eyes
to take their time with things
feeling sort of kittenish
feeling sweet like sugar
melting from the heat of potential energies
sticky licking lollipops
with cotton candy eyelashes
watching from the inside
making mental pictures
saved for a later day