Out look Sex Press

Ginka Stone Wax

he leads me into the sutra chamber.
the little white blood in the hand.
the way is easy.
from here to there.
now is now,
now is worth gold.
his voice vibrates.
we have left the ero-TABLE,
he has the philo-SOFA on his back,
the whole apartment WellLicht is
bathed in light.
the bed in the middle of Berlin
-Mitte , a bed.
this is where the beloved finger
exercise is laid down.
his left caresses my chest,
it strikes my ribs
like buttons.
he dances with his fingertip,
his fingertip performs
the famous jump of pleasure.
our way the luSthansa.
he looks for the most beautiful in the hallway.
she
washed herself in the smallest WANNsee.
she has oiled and perfumed
herself , she has put on the golden skin of happiness
like
her mother’s jewelery.
the line of eva daughters is long.
venus anadyomene, born of foam,
plays along.
she wears a pearl necklace.
the big pillow is ready,
one long for him and
one short for her.
but for that she deserves the lying
carpet. he is from india & interweaves
with the flowers of
your robe to the poem, the poem lover.
my friend pick me up like
a poem
he takes me orally.
we sink into the kiss.

II

and it continues with music.
the golden dome of the synagogue
begins to rotate.
The elevator leaves his mind,
he drifts off in the basement .
the roof terrace is getting dizzy.
the sophienkirchturm breaks off,
only alex, – alex I’m coming, –
flashes at me, flashes at him, flashes at us.
we fly.
now he’s said something.
it happens without a word.
language as breath in one go.
I board. we are sitting in the train.
the BREATH is leaving.   
the breath – betem – cetem – TRAIN
has left.
light at the end of the tunnel.
I open / close,
close / open my eyes.
sleepy eyes.
his fingertips have nails on
his hands.
his upper body has arms.
he / she / it descends on me.
angel sound sounds like a wind chime.
Heart Angel Trumpet.
we have taken the ecri DOOR.
the tree of happiness lights up.
the green tree of life is
golden for love.
i’m losing my body
it is on the way to the green.
love in the green.
his eyes dive into the lake of
my apples, my eyes are
two unconscious SEEN of his gaze.
we melt, melt.
the hour of merging,
everything is breath, has struck.

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Pick Me Up Poetry seeks to be an agent of change in society by fostering cross-cultural dialogue and providing much-needed information and representation for writers and performers. We offer our followers insightful glimpses into cultures around the globe through various mediums including our online articles, poetry collections, spoken-word videos and more. 

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