Vines entwine and wrestle for height Within the splendor of our blood and skin. We pulse a blaze of red serenity, repressed Beneath the fleshy suit of our humanity, But tonight we strip away our imprisonment And submerge this raft in rapture. Bare, but clothed by quiet darkness, You and I are but two wicks of the same fire Breathing existence from air that blankets our world. We sway with the wind of our lechery And smolder for our being's glow. So two fingers descend with your gripping palm To turn the pages of fervor from our past again. Nerves dance, then fade forgotten. The moment (a paragon of prurience) Caught our tongues and held our eyes. The movement (guided by experience) Washed us out on the night's tide. Mirrored script wavers on black currents below, Tidings of homage inked in remembrance, Now illumed by our gently tapering luster. We coast as one in an augmenting flock, Our kindred armada an echo to the stars. Full of fabricated allegiance, our guards drop From their watchtowers. We've let down our hair. And once more they lay us down to rest, Center to these painted paper walls That sail us away to flicker frail And sigh cold.