And your surface is hard. And I can’t get through. Voices speaking as if under bed sheets. I can’t get through. Sounds disappearing before they are registered. My ears tickle. I can’t get in. I can’t get through to you. You are closed land. Fence after fence across your spine. Your body is closed off. Your legs pound against the floor in rhythms that won’t be changed. Your eyes flicker, your jaws clatter. I can’t get though.
It pours out of you. Words and feelings of ‘it’s like this it’s like this it’s like this’ and I lean towards you to meet your ocean of words washing over me. I can’t get through to you. I start at your feet and work my way up. I turn your feet, while words pour out of you. I pinch your legs, and scratch and penetrate the soft skin around your thighs and kiss your tummy. All the voices hollow melodies.
Your fences are strong and it gets harder and harder for me to get close, I can’t get through, I can’t stop your all endeavoring words. You appear from all sides with lulling streams of sound and meaning that make my eye lids unbearable. It has to stop, you will listen. My ears tickle. It has to stop.
And your surface is hard. I try to keep your mouth shut, I try to scream so lightly that we have to close our eyes and I kick and I strike your neck. Because I can’t get through, I can’t get through, I can’t get through.
The fences grow like trees that surround you and I begin to speak.
Faster and faster. I wrench your body and I get hold of your hands, brake your fingers and I pull your hair and ever so gently I push my fingers into your eyeballs. I lick your cheeks and your forehead. Your pouring words become little husky hisses. Coughing conclusions which seem obscure. Your throat dries out. My teeth pinch through the flesh of your tongue. You have to stop, it has to stop. The fences and harbors tremble. You rattle. Your hard body shivers of strain. And the fences shudders and the harbors sway all the way down your spine. Ears tickle. Your muscles surrender like heavy and exhausted animals and while my words, softly creates melodies your chest trembles as if it were of a birds’. I can’t get through. The rhythm is within you, and I can’t get through. I can’t reach this mechanical inner even though I repeatedly pound my fists into your chest. You have to stop, you have to stop because I have something to say. I can’t get through, I can’t get through.
It pours out of you. Words and feelings of ‘it’s like this it’s like this it’s like this’ and I lean towards you to meet your ocean of words washing over me. I can’t get through to you. I start at your feet and work my way up. I turn your feet, while words pour out of you. I pinch your legs, and scratch and penetrate the soft skin around your thighs and kiss your tummy. All the voices hollow melodies.
Your fences are strong and it gets harder and harder for me to get close, I can’t get through, I can’t stop your all endeavoring words. You appear from all sides with lulling streams of sound and meaning that make my eye lids unbearable. It has to stop, you will listen. My ears tickle. It has to stop.
And your surface is hard. I try to keep your mouth shut, I try to scream so lightly that we have to close our eyes and I kick and I strike your neck. Because I can’t get through, I can’t get through, I can’t get through.
The fences grow like trees that surround you and I begin to speak.
Faster and faster. I wrench your body and I get hold of your hands, brake your fingers and I pull your hair and ever so gently I push my fingers into your eyeballs. I lick your cheeks and your forehead. Your pouring words become little husky hisses. Coughing conclusions which seem obscure. Your throat dries out. My teeth pinch through the flesh of your tongue. You have to stop, it has to stop. The fences and harbors tremble. You rattle. Your hard body shivers of strain. And the fences shudders and the harbors sway all the way down your spine. Ears tickle. Your muscles surrender like heavy and exhausted animals and while my words, softly creates melodies your chest trembles as if it were of a birds’. I can’t get through. The rhythm is within you, and I can’t get through. I can’t reach this mechanical inner even though I repeatedly pound my fists into your chest. You have to stop, you have to stop because I have something to say. I can’t get through, I can’t get through.
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