return to the empty womb, split wide open by the brain's capacity to fool itself.
 believing that there is a chance in [bad word]  i ride the eye's waveform to the soft skin of your lower back, [bad word] 
 my hands are rough and scarred but they [bad word] as soft as silk as your flesh turns them into [bad word] of death
 and your mouth calls to me to fall in, spilling downward into the chasm of your throat and exploding against the rocky canyon walls
 as i tumble without end in silence grasping at you hair for a handhold that [bad word] 
 my will manifests too late and trapped in time, we tumble together, a game of sorts with parrying blades,
 invisible to the naked eye this goes on and on with no resolution.
 we dare not speak the words because the atmosphere will disintegrate if my [bad word] intentions are intoned.
 your intentions are unknown to me and i assume you have nothing but a clear understanding of what i can only think is my methodology,
 leading me to a closer understanding of what you are, who you are, why you have this hold on my spirit.
 demons laugh from within my chest and my balls tighten as the ringing in my ears bears your name.
 i yearn to cradle you in the dark,
 our lips will never touch and this is a tragedy i am prepared to live with because i have always lived with it.