if I stare at the roof long enough
would i let it's ink
roll down over me ? 

my shape, pliant and waiting and 
rutting
tilting toward the certainty 
the cooing touch and strain
spreading stygian weight 
pressing down, down, and do...wn

coy and waiting with glistening teeth
brushing, roiling voice 
weight like a purring cinderblock
hands, too many to be real 
too deft to be human 
...

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lain in, thinking about 

the soft roll of hair and 
gentle exhales and 
soft, pressing folds 
filled with tiny collapsing sounds
sighs, held on high
near imperceptible if not uttered 
direct
and deep down 
and deep down
and deep down 
like the brush
of my bones
where all the gaps between could disappear 
where we don't need to know where one begins
or the other ends

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