Climbing Up Out Of The Ashes

The First Touches

The tastes of blissful plastic pouches popping,
as the candy neon colored rocks I use chew on with baby teeth.
Explosions in my mouth, without substance,
fleeting flashes of flooding pain, pleasure inside my belly,
addicting in the colors of strawberry, grape, lime.

Fluffy touches of clouds darkened by rough seas,
salty nets meshed holes, gathering strengths through traps,
of emotions as the dreamcatcher in its glorious harm blocking.

Biting kisses drawing blood up through the skin,
puffing out as the thighs of my great great aunt,
Not piercing, unflowing, at the surface bubbling,
under the heated soaked up skin of my being, hardly gentle,
ravishing, hungerous, need upon my soul, hardly roughened.

Tastes, Kisses, Emotions, Chaos, Pain, Glory, Bliss..
How I remember our first touches,
still addicted, still craving the neon explosions.
So I write it out to feel it all over again, again, again,
watching my pen fall apart in my hands,
the heat it's fierce beast of powerful undoing,
that resides in my memory of us.