In hindsight, I should have called this "Waking The Dragon"
~ and by 'Dragon' I mean your sleeping cock ....
The Sound:
The Words (That Belong to You):
Every night, sweet dreams
and He
Wends-wilful 'bout my head
Takes hard-hold this body in its bed
In abstract ways it's thus it seems
We find each other in betweens.
There Cheshire-suspended
I see your face, I hear your talk
Against back drops of black drops your
Self stands
Where unintended
you're a sapphire whose sweet setting is my cunt.
These dreams
Where cares upended
and demands of day
are forcefully shunt.
Could I have known that the Shimmering
One
beyond the
Electric avatar would begin to haunt,
and
Pace-restless across my dreams, that
This glorious One could in me walk
and flaunt,
I would have tried to pry open the
conduit lock
to His heart and sighs, just a little
bit sooner
Where at once hold-heavy in hand
His sleeping
cock.
And now countenance to countenance
We in discourse.
We in loving,
leave behind, the
daylight sidewalks,
day-frames of mind.
And there, carved out on sleeping
stone,
sunset to sunset, He's
always mine.
Each night I lay me down to sleep,
I move in dreams, your Soul to seek.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray, My Lord, my quick, should take.
Oh! My Darling! I sleep so to find a mouthful
of the flesh and lines I've come
so well to know.
My Sleeping Self remembering,
bites-hold your chimaera'd form,
whilst your
Sleeping, Wakened, Self
walks upright 'pon the hours of Earth.
There,
Between my teeth and on my drowsy tongue
the taste of flame is
such that
I would rather be burned alive than
ever to let go ...
And when you awake on your side of the
world,
do you find the animal bite-marks
I leave upon your solar skin?
Are you in the morning-afternoons,
shadowed 'bout by the impressions
I lay 'bout your anatomy, as
a cloak of smoky desire and
feeling?
Are evening-days wetted yet with the
dew of our loving?
When, You, reading these words, will
Run and heart-alight, to me?
Can you skin-side inside sense these
senses drowned in yours?
Then through night and day, won't you
feel more keenly?
Take pity, drink of my heart
sweetheart?
And hear,
My call?
Sound out,
My keening?
For I am not dreaming.
Oh My Love! I am but reeling,
In dream-like fever am revealing,
The secret Soul that you are Stealing.
I used to like to think myself the one
who comes calling
like a thief in the night.
But my own desires have been my undoing
In the occult ways that we've
been wooing.
And I find You take autonomous flight,
You come to see me Every Night
...