whipped into shape
this cat o nine nigt mare
seeing only the blurred drapes
the face is flush and still with shakes
another measurment takes
deeper into the soul the tear ducts flow
unwillfully enjoying, being, out of controll.
behold this center fold unfolding
limp and parted like two lips
into the sky falls a star heart smouldering
the thousand seed, dream, swallowed in sips.
the dress adressing the carpets shun
feeling two fingers to and fro
creating a flow
and it grow, like a storm cun.
tasted and spilled this cup of juice
and not once but duced
forcefull and then gentle
thre is no truce.
when awake the sword lay idle take
agaist the flow of ocean beak
and once again storm chasers make
the sounds in sleep this time fully awake.