/I lost count of the sexual-themed works I've put here. Something faithful to the source material./

Baby you're a blackhole:

I'm trying to figure you out as you suck me faster.

To where is this heading?

A free-flowing sail of a friendship and yet you're such a skilled blower?

So you fell under my architecture of serendipity,

To have your design dance above my shaking city.

A magnitude as high as you rate me:

9/10...?

Now I know; I'll think of you more often.

The eye contact, the liquidity of tongue, lips, and hands-

Is this really your first time or is it because I'll be your last?

My hands clasped on my skull-top as a triangle of life: the blowing- now quantum particles in articulation of a cosmic gust.

My white light escaping me-

you're ever-twisting to empty.