(THE NUDE INTERLUDE)
THE SOUND FOR THIS POUND...
There you stand so statusque, filling my view.
My heart pounding pumps blood to my core.
I feel you in my tinest bone...
My very last nerve ending...
My mitichondrial dna.
I a particle of Melanin fracture and divide.
Distribute you through my whole.
My needs and wants so intertwined that they become as the finest of lace.
The sturdiest of rope.
I am delicate... I am strong.
The wind caresses my mane.
I want it so bad that my seed presses in its need.
Becomes the hot splatters that fall on her flower petals as you screamed in release... Undulate beneath me.
A pause for that thought came from the want of my passion.
The home of my most primal originations.
I in my pineals have seen us ascended beyond these petty existences and naked ambitions.
I and you as beams of light...
As blades of grass...
As splitting atoms being born again and again.
Such lovely imagery as I meditate upon your structure.
Born of African dust.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY
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