STICKYDREAMS

Our act is not a union, but a brutal merging.
I dissolve into you while penetrating you.
We are two wounds healing into one another while the flesh around us liquifies.
It´s hot. A fire that sticks to us.

I feel my boundaries vanishing. 
My skin tears open and this viscous neon colored venom, oozes out of me and seeps into you.
And from you it oozes back into me.

There is only this infinite, stagnant current of raw desire and naked panic.

Your tears are the frozen fragments of my soul, squeezed out of me the moment we collided.
They are everywhere, like tiny, stinging pearls burrowing into my existence.
They cling to me even when I wake.
They are the proof that the dream was no delusion.
It was the only truth.

And when I wake, I am empty. But I am sticky.
My entire mind is crusted over with this tacky residue.
It is a shame that can not be washed away. An infection festering deep inside of me.
I know that the moment I close my eyes again, the slime will start to flow once more.

It will come for me again.
And I will dissolve once more, in this sticky hell I call my life.

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