THE MANACLES OF ABANDON "
Ripples of aching pleasure surface in the nakedness of your touch. Caresses afflict with the passivity and the passion of my skin. As they enter into the orifices that open upon my body, fingers, tongues or penises penetrate but do not make contact; they only slide into surface effects.
Wet pants, pap slobbered over my chest and thighs, saliva in my mouth. The wet inner sanctum of my lips dragging over my shoulders, ejaculating penises roll over my breasts. Lovers like sluggish sea cucumbers turn their organs inside out. Their couplings do not emanate from the depths of my body; rather they occur where buzzing, slobbering lips, tingling nipples, toes and soft soles of feet make contact with the milk foam of a rough goatskin blanket, or hairy blades of grass.
They fail to feed my body's core: hands disconnect and wallow about, tickling the flaccid circumference of my limbs. My eyelids blink in a tingling dew of sweating pores, flicked ears, quivering hairs. My inner body consumes itself like a surface inside a membrane, and a drop of starlight, after traveling a billion light years through the void, is lapped up by the jelly of my eye.
You quench my thirst with your paralysis. And never having known your face, you nourish me with lifelessness. I become the uninhabitable region of your reflections. You have imprisoned me in your blindness to yourself. As a captive of your desire for a mirror image - your shadow - I tighten the manacles of abandon.