Friday, November 8, 2013

Lovers on the cross

I suspend myself and swing my arms all over the bed,
My back pressing the sheets, his eyeballs lust over my nipples,
That time, his testicles hang on a cross
A cross nailed by a man whose name rings the doorbells of the past
 
The roles have changed. I am the man he is
And, he has become me, but his presence has otherwise multiplied.
I am skinny, boy you’re so fat.
 
He approaches. There is middle ground.
He finds me. I see him, coming.
He mumbles words evidently of erotic nature. There is middle ground.
I find him. He sees me, coming.
 
Happy read!

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