Welcome to the Bacchanalia

I had a dream last night, and it went a little something like this: 

 

Black light, flickering gold in the dark, 

Air heavy with musk and fast breath, 

Whispered passions, sweat on hot skin; 

Bodies blended, all one that sight can mark, 

Desperate search for just a little Death, 

Shallow desire, nevermore trapped within. 

 

I think I woke up for a moment, but only a moment: 

 

Still groaning in the heat soaked air, 

Flesh on flesh on flesh, slipping 

Into sweetest agony, nearly; 

Lightest touch on skin so fair, 

Shivering cries, now coming 

As sight fades clearly. 

 

Never resting, only selfish demand reigns 

Over never-ending contractions, 

As fearless energy passes to exhaustion; 

Driven to excess as darkest lust deigns 

Lust for pleasure alone, and love's fearful reactions, 

Position to position, nearing contention. 

 

One final push, reaching to our heavens 

Last edge of desire as passion swells, 

Exploding joy and contracting walls; 

Merciless slaves to biology's revelations, 

Drenched in love and blood, fading light tells 

Of our acts, as last faltering inhibition falls.