A crash.

Two planets colliding with the intensity of a war.

Destruction, sweet as the tip of your tongue.
Dancing in honey rain.
A laughing sun.
The center point of an Empire, always alive with fire storms.

And you.

A silver coated wolf, hungry as Death itself

 – tearing me apart with your uneven teeth.
Jaws locked around my heart.
Blood lust and cream.
Unleash me.
With stardust.

I am raw inside you.
We make love inside a birdhouse.
Six hours of dead ends.

An eternity of words.
Layers and layers of black fire and fragile slices of ham.
Washed away by moonlight.

With the shower curtains still dripping of cum.

The texture of a raw chicken.

Tongues, wet and slow like pink snails.

Two hearts, divided by a wall.

Sharp as a razor blade.

Impermeable.

A nothing box.
It never existed anyway.
You killed mommy with your love.

Cherry strap-on.

I hate purple.
Jelly pain and a fierce cul-de-sac.

I am just a detail in your life.

Pure love.
Insomnia inside a void.

Heartbeats trapped in a car.

Driving faster into you.
Melting.

Into the rainbow.

A spilled egg between my legs.
And I reach for your heart like it’s heaven.

.

Silence is just another language that we share.

.

MIA MAKILA, October 2014