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!