erotic atmosphere:
pungent perfume of
pristine pear,
tall tapestries
to touch
with fingers
soft and lush,
bodies bare
in the bald light
of a love-stained moon
that pools in the pits
of lover-eyed planets
awaiting their doom.

on Earth
we only roam in paradise,
the air of pear perfumes,
the terrestrial tapestry
that interweaves
you and your bodies,
your light-filled, solemnly-stacked
bodies,
like those of angels.

you sensual being,
you, i’m calling out to you
from within your pits of eyes—
when you cry and moan,
don’t forget to say “I,”
and remember,
i am your home.



Brinn W.