Pornophilian

 
 
I watch you, in your pornographic playground.
how could I not? you are mesmerizing in your
nakedness, yet un-accusable as a pre-carnal Eve.
 
you are the stars I have tracked across taciturn
skies. you are each one, and every one. and when
those stars drift together by some incalculable
dynamic, and they meld into the shape and audacity
of a woman, resplendent in her nudity, they are you.
 
I watch you, and the men that surround you, recruited
gangbang militia, grotesque in their phallic distortions.
in my fantasy, sections of their bodies separate like
amoebae, they become surreal as a Dali painting,
and thusly unable to penetrate you. they fade further
into mere vapor trails, vanquished by ever-vigilant
sylphs. and you are majestic in your aloneness, as
I desire you.
 
there is no sin in the curious aspect of nature, which
ordains that you must touch your body, to discover
those fevered curves and slopes that will release
sweet torrents of passion.
 
when your fingers explore the damp center of your luxury,
arousal comes as you fathom the enigma of ecstasy;
when you are secure, as if you were the meridian of
beauty, feral and sensuous, solitary in the universe…
 
…I watch you