100 words for Wank Wendesday. –M
Here faithfully when hunger will not spare you even in sleep,
manifest essence of pure desire.
to the nimbus,
just above your skin, raising the small hairs,
making gooseflesh, though it is warm here.
Like static I hiss into your ear, and, slowly, you shift,
You’ll be ready for when I plunge;
invasive, primal urgency, saving nothing.
I need you to be, so that you come around me before you wake, and I dispell.
You’ll feel me still, the fading ozone scent marking my passage,
like a departed thunderstorm.