you make me wanna fuck like two colliding stars that carry stories & gifts of galaxies, far off that we can only share through silent puppet shows in the dancing flames of celestial bodies under the duress of time's hastened breath, before death, i'd try to fuck to find a pain that you'd entrench so deeply into my heart, not even death, herself, could rip you from the chambers of revelation, therein, adorned with the trabeculae of your genius, gifted to the infinite cycles of resurrection as revolutionary contraband to the brilliance of unborn consciousness i want to fuck in the open caskets of our former selves, fuck over tragedies, fuck in the depleted oceans, drown together fuck'ing in voids, and fuck, with you, against the walls that oppress us both, coming to beautiful realizations - of the light between us that empowers not eyes, but disempowers the darkness that blinds us from our own divinity and certainly, we should fuck before onlookers, in great crowds of disinterested ghosts, who would laugh at our nakedness from their masked symposiums of weather-talk, missing every euphoric scream of our quiet breaths at the joys of our limited perception - wonder, screaming wonder, they could never fuck like we do, loving purpose with a purpose to love, and learning that when we fuck we come together
fuck in the open caskets of our former selves 👊🏼
Sharp mirror in front. And I see, I live small life doing great things, and so often imperfect and lack of courage.