-Prelude

The entente of your skin like embers,

The silk of your skin uncut;

You wore a dress, how you always wore a dress,

Of concordance with your pensive curves,

When I was bound within your arms the earth became superfluous

And I turned water into words;

Love is not mechanical, it is a song.

And I brushed what was left upon your lush lips

As we rolled in oysters and flakes of skin,

As the silent earth grew silent once more

For the stress of the stressed pressed upon your open mouth,

The indent of pressed skin pressed upon gallantly,

The labor of your cunt pressed with the force

To force the pulse of the earth to a crisis with a loud fuck.

And love is not mechanical, it is a song.






- Garrett Michael Ball