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The Sounds I Make

Come close Baby.
This ain’t no bear trap,
this ain’t no jail cell
cuz I take no prisoners.
I swallow whole.

I invite you to my shrine
and all the Rituals I design,
and all these mountains you can climb,
and all these waves you can ride…

I got the tongue that burns,
and the Kiss that scars,
and the Touch that unchains,
and the arms that reclaim
your soul from hell.
I can fly to the ceiling
and fall on your dimension:
No strings attached,
no net to catch
Us
in our Temple of Love
where Orishas of Origin and Orifice
accept our Offering
of our two bodies.
Naked as the day
God made us Shine
for the first time.

So come close.
Hold me tight.
As we create.
And listen to
the sounds I make.

You can apotheosize in my Embrace.
You can baptize in my blaze.
You can explore each emotion as it emerges.
And you can lose yourself in this unity.
Just you and me.
And you can grab my body and close your eyes.
And you can elevate and uprise.
And you can laugh and have some fun,
cuz we ain’t hurting anyone.
* * *
So feel yourself sacred.
Feel yourself initiate.
And be atoned
in the sounds I make.

Each Move you make is a sacrament.
Each Vibration you conjure is a miracle.
Each Touch of our bodies is a godsend.
Give me all of you.
So we can consecrate.
So we can gyrate.
So we can masturbate.

No more repression.
No more depression.
No more oppression.
I’m tired of being good.
I’m tired of succumbing.
I’m tired of inhibition.
I’m tired of not cuming.

So let’s change the world.
Let’s be Gods again.
Let’s abandon Eden
and eat free from the tree.

Cuz any price is worth it
when there’s so much to awake.
And we’ll be guided
by the sounds I make.

You make sounds too.
The sound of devotion.
The sound of motion.
The sound of ocean.
The sound of breeze.
The sound of trees.
The sound of qi.

Titillating with each joy.
Bringing us out of the void.
Arousing us from hell.
Delivering us from the shell.
The sounds I make don’t discriminate
when I have my Story to tell.

So gather round the campfire.
Spill all your desires.
Ain’t nothing left to anticipate,
but I think it’s time to emancipate
and not be afraid.
Don’t back down,
just salivate
and celebrate
the sounds I make.

by paz paulsensacks

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