I black out — come to…transformed.

 

You cut yourself, and I relieve the deep, metallic flow of blood with my mouth.  That ancient taste permeates my tongue.  I breathe deeply in to gather it – more.  I wait before an electric wave carries me — my mouth slides lightly over your arm, to your lips.  Taste!   Your salty blood on my tongue.  Isolated senses push my muscles, again!  Again.  Without permission.  I black out — come to…transformed.  Fused, we take our time to speak and the moistness between us evaporates into the continuum of time.

And now this — aw, it’s only a minute, 42 seconds — it’s an accompaniment to my poem — just don’t look up the lyrics!