Photograph by: Allan Teager

I am lost
along the rolling hills of your shoulders
a speechless prophet
worshiping an aloof god

basking in the sunshine warmth
on the open plains of your chest
pressed against my cheek
I am drunk on the mirage
of beating hearts

the rolling waves
of your abdomen
strip away equilibrium
I pray to drown
falling freely

the deep valleys of
inner thighs are blooming with
the dewy sent of dusk pleasures
I beg for a drink
from an exacting liege

I am ablaze
fluttering embers sanctify the animal
fireflies tracing sacred runes
dancing stars in a ravenous abyss

There may be a day when I don't
have to beg for money.

Today is not that day.