...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EVC8r2b5mnI

.

.

.

It were as though

Something

Had been saturating

Into the very stuff

.

Within the air …

.

.

The room hung heavy - 

Palpable, wrought with humidity,

Moisture, coiling smoke and

Candle wax -

.

All about, defined by fabrics:

Light-suppressant curtains,

Throw pillows,

Moroccan carpet

.

And a thin layer of satin

.

Tucked into

Each

Sedentary corner

Of a solitary mattress.

.

.

Mauve

.

To see the room

Would be to remember

Supple hues

Of softened red.

.

.

As I lay there, clothed,

Handcuffed and blindfolded,

I heard her enter, smelt

The oxidizing aroma

Of a recently struck matchstick -

The pulling sense of atmosphere

That attached itself to my senses -

.

As she approached, and the

Pulling

Pulled ever tighter,

I felt the gliding

Of a pair

Of tailor’s scissors

Beneath the sensitive, hidden

Recesses

Of my

Suddenly slackening attire.

.

.

                Blackness,

                Restraints,

                Candlewax,

                And the intently sliding aluminum

.

                                     of an accomplished

                                          nymphomaniac.

.              

.

.