Rotten brain.

Shut up,
speak up,
you rotten piece
of whatever
under my command.

Body affects you,
diet afflicts you -
or empowers you.
Stutters
and mis-starts.

Oops!
Did I say that?
Correction:

remember to correct in future
with self-correcting fluid.
Your correction systems
and self-preservation sub-routines
are running on empty.

Bouquet.

A bouquet of flowers:
colours screaming for attention.
Scents complementing each other;
nonsense.

Each flower
slowly dying
in
the presence
of another,

they fall apart,
petal by petal,
in slow time.

Standing tall,
jutting out,
strutting;
scents turn
putred.

Beautiful in life,
beautiful in death,
beautiful as they linger
in between,
slowly losing their essence
to closed eyes

until the stink gets too much.

Take it to another level, baby.

My love for you goes beyond
the male form:
you liberate me.
The expression of our love: physical.
I felt this way before now;
I still do.

Talk of sex preference
serves to cheapen our love:
it's not what genitalia the
other possesses;
it's love -
pure and simple.

Fumbled embraces,
sensual words with butterfly wings.
You elevate me.
With great levity,
you open me to new horizons.

With fiery tongues, fiery eyes,
we bridge the gap between us.
No carnal pleasures do we indulge in.

I use my hands to use my heart;
use my lips to plumb the depths 
of the endless ocean within you.

It's not a case of gay or straight.
Love is not bound by preference
or prejudice.

With every second, quell the hurt;
boost the transcendence.

We dive into each other,
and get lost somewhere inside.