I would rather... whisper to the intermission
that listens to the interim of the intimacy
that I share with my private personal favorite
thus, she know who she is
my Venus craft is still aimed at the stars
while I embark upon the essence of my epic thrill

lacing the very lyric that listens to the page
whenever the sentence ends, mind each metaphor
that moans alongside sticky floors, I try to implore
the important climax upon conclusions
that cum harder then so-called gang-stars
that miss the under-point of hidden scores

need I say more... I must for the adrenaline rush
as I re-adjust for my Lebanese muse as she abuses
the long length fuse in my explosive thrust
she trusts that my lust will continue in the next chapter
why fight the rapture when I can bite
the remnants in the revelation

her oyster ocean bed, my anticipation, I taste to drown
her orgasmic frowns... I calmly wait for
understanding the utters that shivers within the rumbles
that shakes the shudders in the sweat of the sheets
as our poems pump into each other
sizzle to gush: Supreme!

why not scream amidst the milky way cream
that pours upon the planetary round-about raunchy
rhetoric that says it all for the withdrawal, begged
input back inside, for the deep shove feed-back
non-stop until I bottom out
y-y-yeah, like that... you know, you like that!