equilibrium inebriated.

"i've got a sickness, it feels like love
it's not contagious, take off the gloves.
drop your defenses, apply a coat of perfect,
i'll form the sentences, you try to interpret."



my devotion to her lined the tips of my fingers,
and formed small welts of involuntary commitment
as i dug them into the small of her back.
the alarm clock's iridescent glow of bloodshot red
caught reflection in a small bead of sweat
that grazed the corner of her right eye.
crying blood; romanticizing of tears.

her beautiful.
a kind of beautiful that completely masters the mind.
captivates it in such an essence
that there lies a void for the most profound words.
an absence so rich and incriminating,
that the mouthing of 'fuck' causes hairs on the back of my neck to rise
in the formulation of a standing ovation
that only symphony no. 9 in d minor once held priority to.

sounds of approval hang in the air.
the treble clefs of passion tangle around the bars
of the bedsheet music.
there is a rhythm in our movement
and i orchestrate her chrous,
with gentle, affirmative,
precision based hands.

ever wanted to know what its like
to be out of body?
its that moment of transcending past physicality
and feeling your heartbeat
pushing your blood
through her veins.
hearing your sighs and labored breathing
rush past her lips.
sharing the same moment of release
in the arching of her back.

now i could simplify this all for you,
but anything more simple than this
would be far too complex.