after this you may need a cigarette... (originally written in 2006... warning family members, its more R rated than my other stuff)

with the twisting of the rhythm of the nighttime lighting
you can drop drippings of a candle if you dont leave marks.
well unless they are hidden,
for office politics require a bit of delicacy.
yet delicacies of flesh forgotten from months of indifference
back turning on someone well hidden in doorways electronic.
its easy to be anonymous when noone can see you lurking behind that two way mirror,
where we're watching things start entwining like limbs and lips and tongues.
do you think you could make me speak like that or
testify or maybe sing a halleluia
from the back of my throat that comes out too throaty for anything holy. perhaps if you held wrists twisting one handed turnaround with shoulder blade biting
you could make an assumption of the tone of my thought processes that are like cutting into a sort of sweet cake like softness perhaps.
voyeuristic tendencies makes me want to tripod this moment or
maybe we'll just exercise the boundaries of speech
more affective than touching but licking down that side of my shoulder may prove more conducive to the worries in your mind of what comes next.
second guessing if i'm flinching wont get you to any type of finish line, yet your hidden glimpses of such sensitivity sort of crawl down my back arched spine,
closed hand on the jugular makes you feel the pulse you should be feeding, speeding, leading into the backwards sighs of sweat drenched lines surrounding open minds drifting .