Swirling spheres having merged glow glossy against my face sealed heat of dreams tilting, my time tilting yang and yin, seeing having seen, saw, see-saw, I wave to the sea - "saw saw" crying from the birds for me to look above to as the wings point and flap at a frosty cap of horizon, my tunnel of elapsed and decisive love and purpose - come to me angel and fire of my heart! Swing above the hundred mountains and carry me away in the swelling froth of fate and encase me around your pulsing bossom of purple pumps that stuff me with nutrition. Make me swallow you and become one with the entrance to your soul and cabinet keeper rattling the ageless armour of eternity to gallop us throught the pathless fields of head-high color individually stroked in streams of combinations huddling around in complimentary coincidences which burn to the touch of the eyes of mine looking through to your flaming holes of vision with pupil pointing precision producing the quenching tears, this conjoined fusion of the rib cage feeling sinking backwards into the makeup. The makeup: Each step has composed a position for us to dwindle. Notches frozen into past's place and imagination as we sit in our home, endless, with no clear beginning. Could we trace it back through the history of our hands and how they have carried us here? Can we wrap around the burning curtains of wishes and appear to one another from above in vibration with the steady call we had heard, each past our head's directory? Your young lip dribbles along my smiling teeth towards your perfection as I can shape your scalp with these scratching paws of love. I would growl forever clearly into your twitching ears of open acceptance, my warm poetries of precise, hot rub and collapse of fixed words in teh flying seconds of our intertwined friction and fusion. We are open. The exchange... The exchange: Rays advance the cavity of bloom, holding from the roots in the wind and rustling of tucked in sheets cover clumped... surround you with the textures of my palms and earth, all I could possibly offer flying by in a torrent of rain from my chest and heaving storm. Sunshine filters its way about us like a shell, a slow shell stacking beneath our planet we have homed in the dark stairs of mystery we guide, either first, clasping the stem and petals which flutter above the soiled erosionof the old steps which have gotten us here. The steps are filling with our spinning joys, these old craters filled with lakes turning concentric rings around your flying digits along my face. Feel my passion; fill the myth and temple against the sides of this head nodding a deliverance of it all to you.