Tantra

Good morning, I write with you still on the tip of my fingers ... Table scraps of memories and all the places you bring me by the slight twitch and dip pf your muscles I know nothing like your brand of love and thrust Not lust, But divinity And the sacred energy produced by the rain,

of crashing elements Foggy and sticky You are in a lane,

of your own

Super-sane patterns of flattery

The bedroom name "Goddess" falls from Your lips with ease And prove how you've missed the alchemy of my chocolate Strapped down by stardust Chiseled as if cut from greek god cloth Pre-cloth Divinity inferred And fortified at the seams, Sealed in Onyx Black diamond of perfection You wield weaponry That threatens me, to escape the barriers Keeping me on the peaceful side of the barricade Striding down streets with the fire of protest and implosion Washing away anything i'd known about how the night might end Days begin,

suspended on your lead

Cheering on the twerk of my hips And calling out Godd when you see her! Stark and ignorant to sin, New depths within Caressing her climatically Dramatically designing right now with pens made of static Spastic with magic And unconcern for appearance Spirit fuck We Transcend. -Amani O+

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