Close your eyes, and feel
how I break the boundaries that befit you;
close your eyes, and taste
the way I blur the sharpness of your fears.

Feel
the rippling of my passive tongue
on the border of your numbness.
Let me show you the only thing I know:

My bended wrists are Subject
of Comparison – – but if you close your eyes
and leave your hands out of the Theory,
you will forget how to

Compare

the surrendering of your neck
and the burn of your thighs whenever she collapses;
the taste of your own fingers
and the Sound of Pages when slowly turned.

Men tend to be Comparative,
but if you keep your eyes closed
you’ll see – there’s nothing to Compare.
Allow the Writings do all the talking,

Let Beauty come!
and assault you by surprise.
Beauty is the reason of everything I’m doing,
don't try to find which tongue suits you best…


Just let it come.