NOCTURNAL EMISSIONS by Jeff Callaway

my

alabaster princess

of Atlantis prances

into oblivion

kissing me with her ocean

and breathing in heavy animation

a promenade

of sensual acumen, aplomb

a parade

inside the lover’s aquarium

where there is algebra in our footsteps

and a masquerade

of opulent beauty

in the caress of her

fingertips

all icy

patterns on my bare skin

to the bone

so we drop the linen

in the kitchen

towards an apex of explosions

or a crushing weightlessness

taking us towards our graves

or mine

gravely

in the grave digger’s serenade

her tongue of waves of fire

is like life is the alphabet of death

and her teeth are like tombstones

that spell out orgies

in her mouth

where i immerse myself

mercilessly

in the rain her hair is also fire

orange and golden curls

that swirl

secret side inside secret

swirl she is a cupcake

in her creamy skin, an ivory

death wish bone china cabinet

and i am the rain

upon her sweaty bed

with its no sheets, a bare bedlam

and i am the child she is torturing

in the dungeon

with butterflies

nurturing tsunamis in my stomach

as i reside within the walls

of her

wet soft pinkness

© Jeff Callaway

NOCTURNAL EMISSIONS by Jeff Callaway

my

alabaster princess

of Atlantis prances

into oblivion

kissing me with her ocean

and breathing in heavy animation

a promenade

of sensual acumen, aplomb

a parade

inside the lover’s aquarium

where there is algebra in our footsteps

and a masquerade

of opulent beauty

in the caress of her

fingertips

all icy

patterns on my bare skin

to the bone

so we drop the linen

in the kitchen

towards an apex of explosions

or a crushing weightlessness

taking us towards our graves

or mine

gravely

in the grave digger’s serenade

her tongue of waves of fire

is like life is the alphabet of death

and her teeth are like tombstones

that spell out orgies

in her mouth

where i immerse myself

mercilessly

in the rain her hair is also fire

orange and golden curls

that swirl

secret side inside secret

swirl she is a cupcake

in her creamy skin, an ivory

death wish bone china cabinet

and i am the rain

upon her sweaty bed

with its no sheets, a bare bedlam

and i am the child she is torturing

in the dungeon

with butterflies

nurturing tsunamis in my stomach

as i reside within the walls

of her

wet soft pinkness

© Jeff Callaway