Bodies gently, softly, moving -
stroking the nature of souls.
Kneading the flesh to blossom
like a new rose of Spring.
Carnality exceeds reality
as passion permeates and
plays melodies to the mind.
Portals crave the savoring touch.
Roses bloom in the heat of night,
filled with blind energy of - now.
A dreary frivolous road
glittered with drops of rain.
"Self!" "Self!" "Self!" - The splash
answers the rain drop - "Self!"
The patter of each drop
beckons to answer - - - why.
Lonely? - Empty? - Control?
Revenge? - Answers? - Needs?
Or, simply to Feel?
"Running late again ----- "
as bonded souls embrace
and touch -- Tainted lips

Barnum Taylor © 1999