Twitching Mess of Need
You do this to me.
Itâ€™s all you and those silly words.
How youâ€™ve strung them together in such a way,
I have no clue.
You make me open, swollen, full, wet.
No, itâ€™s more.
You write what I feel.
The intangible ache manifested in a string of symbols.
Hieroglyphs only a few are privileged to discern.
Hidden meanings, masculine intent, need, hunger, longing.
You viscerally transcend space and time.
The two headed bitch is now youâ€™re slave.
She bows to only you.
Power flows from your fingertips.
Impactful, primal, instinctual, raw, real.
Your words render me a twitching mess of need.