Gimme a dig of that juice, mix it with my medicine so it bites like a bitch and turns my flesh to stoned. I like my dragons green and full of sap so I dangle by a silver thread vibrating on the frequency of ecstatic union. Spread those creamy thighs baby and let me glimpse heavens gate. We’re gonna fuse into the night and roll along the back roads of eternity. Take me to the moment when the stars within flicker and pour me out like honey and liquid gold. This flesh, yours and mine, is food for the gods. The feast we lay before them is succulent in its orgasmic intention. We are everything and everything is equal in the moment of our coming.
Image: ‘Woman with Homunculus’ by Egon Schiele