Portrait of the Artist as a Man
October 26, 2014

Sex for Chemists

From our shells we reach out.
Between us, a dense fog of uncertain
Relations. We connect, our hands brushing
with electric intent and release
light into each other. We draw in
with the ever collapsing
orbits of our interlocked limbs.
Until spent, in the dark, we are heaped
in space. Stability and silence found
in a degenerate bond.


Poetry


Previous post
External Carotid Artery Hold the carotid. We’re grasping at elation. Tighter. Just tighter
Next post
Addiction I wonder if the addictive style of Tumblr’s reward structure is “helping” reduce my discipline in other areas of my life