It is the death of light,
no one mourns.

artificial corpses
of plastic and white
reanimate the dead.

vapors of warm air
caress us.

Our souls
have returned back
through their
meaningless voyages.

We lie down, naked.
and entertain the ceiling fan.

Your breasts have a thousand
ways of loving me
yet they lie still,

We are drowned in unseen realities.

I spread Hershey’s all over you,
from lips to wondrous thighs.

I start from lips.
You tremble like a mutilated animal.

I kiss your cleavage.
You tempt me like the morning sun.

I lick your nipples.
You abhor the wait as grasses do for the warm rain.

Minutes grows to hours,
as you take my hands between your legs.

For you turn to God.
the one who abolishes time.
Revering the satanic touch
of the person who once disavowed
the warm body of yours.