Bleeding out.

Strange how I’d like to devour your soul, tear it open and watch as the mechanical hands tick and fucking tock.
Devour it not with my fingers that ache to stretch across your skin or my lips curiously searching for your taste. I want to devour you not with my naked body or eager eyes. Strange how my soul wants to tear open your soul and watch as passion bleeds into you, as desire sweeps across our bodies an explosion of forgotten inhibitions. To let instinct replace knowing as our bodies entwine, expelling darkness creating a dark mass a void of time that stands still. Stillness as our spirit escapes the self imposed cages. Chaos confined to the outer universe, chaos spilling through us, chaos becoming us. A moment created in time  that cannot be defined, cannot be tamed, cannot be placed on a page alongside a tick box of descriptions. I’d like to devour you, create something pure and instinctual untainted by the cages of society.

Karen Hayward ©2016

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