succubus_incubi lycanthrope your lips divulge teeth, your lips divulge other possible deceptions. your stomach quivers like a horse's flank does when a fly alights and bites, a bemused known occurence given a shiver perhaps emphasizing now. your skin is our consummation. it is only your half opened tidal eyes that can tell my body from electricity from everywhere, from overunning some deliberate representation. shadows are created then cornered. the night is still. no birds sing their cuckold, their call, silent racheting, prelude to the smirk. the night is still. this gives the illusion that we have outran it. stullified it. our sighs are passing faster, desperately, a drowning victim who is out of air is not so desperate, since they release to endless boundries but do not return. Your motions are suddenly certain. A subordinate within me has long ago had his head dashed against a rock called solace. there is a brieft savannah in our thighs, our stretching- we are awash in endless swellings, one could be relived millions of times, but constantly are chased away in a hunt. you remind me with a whisper that screams, that quality is civilization- it holds still long enough to accumulate to manipulate that which would go whole unbroken- no fancy for science, no fact for art. the parts of me i ignore to unity are taken away, emphasized serially, then imprecisely at once, i pull back into myself- and these moments we realize the savage love in each other, we hide it, we attempt our hands against strategies some claim are God. There is surrender, necessity of other, employment of the world- the word natural bends along the arch of your back, in accordance with but by no means proving our theories and - orgasm, yours, why am i so elated? we fall asleep each thinking the world has bowed to us just this once, that we have surpassed our allowance. birds chirp in the morning, we happily misdiagnose their songs as cheerful. my hands hold yours, warmly. this is no lie. our rhythms are uneasily close, heartbeat, sweat, words. we anticipate go at the same time, allow polite silence. we sometimes catch out of our peripheries efforts we didn't know we were making. I spy a smile on your face, I smile. We agree to the wisdom of custom. We head out the door to a world of resources and others and possibilities, and none of them would suspect in our hoarding, in our holding, the savage love we in some way share with them, and whip away with the word dreams. 020805 ... IKC 56-80 medeival_sex_demons temptations seductions and corruptions imagined into existence to rationalize perceived failures of sexual self control. Frankly, a little supernatural_seduction sounds like it might just be a good time 020805 ... marked . 031125 what's it to you? who go blather from