Eg Mun Laeknast

My boundless and immortal appetite for salacity is insatiable, unpredictable.

I covet the passion I have not felt in years, may not ever feel in a lifetime. 

I envision your fingers pressed deeply into my skin, like hooks growing out from every layer, every membrane. 

Your sharp nose is crushed against my jaw, my neck angled back and chin thrust forward, pulling you as one into whatever it is that I am, whatever it is that we must become now. 

I will not ever know where your spine has begun or where the acuminous, fragile bones of my clavicle disappear; but your flesh trails slowly, maddeningly, against my flesh and the blue blood within my veins. 

Your lips flush red with fervor and graze my own as our teeth make contact while our mouths consume one another. 

My fingers, extensions of my hands, become extensions of my carnality and they become ensnared in your hair. 

I demand your conscience, your courage, your animus. 

You command my mortal existence and I must take heed, for you have vexed me from this moment forward.

It is here I shall remain, breathless beside your frame.