Inde pendants hanging like charms dangling as arms sway and mouths say a familiar prayer. A kiss the only sacrament I care to receive. Belief without deeds is as wasteful as climaxing alone.
I've flown featherless and undressed days until the naked face of space can be seen embracing planets. Our shadows; extraterrestrial silhouettes,
viewed through telescopes by celestial beings skiing off of peaks on Martian mountains,
Downing fountain drinks and showing off the fresh ink on their arms.
Ignore the fire alarm and revel in the heat of the moment until each component of your form becomes scorched and crumbles humbly into a new beginning.
Leave easels spinning like records,
decorate your words
as they violently purge
and parchment partakes in passion.