soul sex

Burning through my veins is a fear that will transform kindly into despair and sickness

Leeching slowly up my spine, it drains and feeds off meager insecurities that uphold my weakness.

I accept this shredded comfort of skepticism with complete rationality through tears that coerce me to hate.

Deep within is a metemorphosis that drips slowly away frim this fear of air that grips so violently in an eternal yearning to atlas; Triangulate

Seeing and intrinsicly enforcing my past to dissipate into a pool of salty fleshs spawned from a seperate, but kindred heart.

Pleading desperately for this consciousness to conform with my own is sourly ripping the original fear of branding apart

This yearning screams withing my soul by the highest echelon of fortitude, while it cringes as well as appeases.

Confusion is finally a comfort entered intimately through that impenetrable fear of a magnanimous dillusion empowering inordinate diseases.

Its painfully consuming me. Highly alert to the light. Blinding Brightness; full of expectations to conform within and to drown myself, while under a phospherescent change in shift.

I accept this unexpected tranquil fear. I yearn for much more death to the darkness that eradicates up space from the distance of my heart to the plane on which i wait for that one delicate soul to sift.