Under my hands I feel the deep quake.
cascading strength and tender spread legged vulnerability.
This is love.
This is power.
This is the power of the sweetness that live on my tongue and lips.
Their voice is cracked and brittle. Whiskey sieved through stone and velvet. Theirs is power transmuted and poised in the universe opened on my tongue.
We are sweet things.
We are lustful exploding stars creating our own gravity.
We are beauty.
We are them.
We belong to tongue and cunt and cock.
We belong to each other.
Under my hands there is power and submission.
Subversion lives there waiting for my tongue to unlock
the truth kept there.