I dream of paradise

Sweet lips were brushing the skin bristling with cold, naked of pleasure, 

bared of inhibitions while desire was blurring mind so there remain no 

concrate memory, but only fleeting images; and meanwhile hands, warms, 

greedy, were slowly running down every centimetre of the body, from 

panting lips, to breast, to hips, to legs interwoven with his body, fusing 

our spoils in a single essence.

In the darkness of the road didn’t exist nothing more, not time, not space, 

nothing but deceptive beatings of love which was consuming, as in a delirium 

of senses drunk with ephemeral instants but so intense to disperse any 

remaining reasonable.

Every kiss now becomes slash on the skin; every wail now becomes broken
breath; every instant of pleasure now becomes womb hurt, thorath hurt and I

fall down prey of pain, convulsive and trembling, in waiting of time 

weaving agony of my beeing and frittering my burnt passion ashes away.

And I walk on cold floor while I’m spitting blood from eyes, I totter 

yearning of anythig that soothe, that fade away images pricking like pins 

in my memory and I crumple, slithering, before the mirror: bared, lost, 

empty, incomplete. Deluded.

I watch shape reflected in the mirror, inebriated with the torment, 

with the longing for those moments of violent madness, I brush against her 

hand with my weak fingers and I raise my lips to her, closing pain in Judas’ kiss.