The Journals

Come with me to our reverie
Close your eyes and pursue the beckon
Alone and warm, all burrowed in bed
You enter my core.
Heady, hard, and cold
In our 2 dimensional play we have everything but sensation.
Pinch yourself in this place of free will,
Everything is as you make it, except, except
If we are in God’s realm,
Give me hell with you.
I want your flesh.
I want to feel the heat of your breath when you suckle my breast.
I want to throb from your touch.
Give me hell with you and leave our spirits to another time
I want, you want, let us wanton
Despoiling our core with the sensation of us
Till we never want to leave this dominion of conscious
Feel the throb of your flesh against mine
Let your sweat drip to my thigh.
Where is this in God’s realm?
Lock your stare to my groon oogen
Till you pierce my soul and I cast my glance away.
Oh dear God, I beg for our mercy.
Pity the corruption of our soul from your reward.