The necessity of speaking
to enter me
in front of this
feminine land
All moves in me
on ancient shoulders
dissolves
under my tongue
at the meeting of our pleasure
I shall endure you
to lose myself
We shall not wait until morning
Random syllables of sanity from my subterranean barometric life
The necessity of speaking
to enter me
in front of this
feminine land
All moves in me
on ancient shoulders
dissolves
under my tongue
at the meeting of our pleasure
I shall endure you
to lose myself
We shall not wait until morning