Between Thoughts

From the whistling hills of a thousand empty thoughts

folding and creasing into itself.

The skies flow with rivers that cannot sit still,

Bedrocks open to a cloudless silver mist

blanketing the meadow blossom.

Its flowers fade

 and return

in runaway blurs,

flashes and skips,

The afterimage                   echoes                  in bouncing lights,

Whirls and rings

that cease not to question,

Pulling into an intense

p  u  l  s  i  n  g     h  e  a  t

erratic pleasures of

immense carnal depths,

teeth clenched in gasping sheets

walls gripping in hysterics

afraid to indulge in the

pointless sowing

and seeding and sowing

and

a  n  d

a             n             d-

…

Two soft pincers emerge from below,

Terminating in delicate, crimping toes,

They wrap tenderly around my back.

A calming breath rolls across the nape - truly a loving caress.

By sorcery-

the heat, the lights, the undulant maze

of shifting mounds, free-flowing skies and roiling mist-

Hush.                    Gone.

From dizzying spins,

I succumb to the comfort and warmth of soft breasts.

Chin turned upwards, inviting the search

Of her mellowing lights, albeit in vain.

Worried, yet bemused by the spectacle,

She asks without speaking:

“What’s wrong?”

…

…

Try as I might

…

I can only muster

A spiralling silence.

…

Without you

                                                                                                                                       I’m lost