Desperate for writhing,
licking, sighing,
warm breath on tingled on neck;
hands gripping, beats combining
Bodies are all tips, we’re climbing
the peaks,
wishing for flight: retreat,
but then we march back to the end
stand teetering at the edge,
and wanting,
so badly needing,
to jump.

You feel yourself readying,
readying,
readying to jumping,
you JUMP.
And in those free-floating seconds
the heavens give way to
a symphony of light and shape,
that is not just heard, merely seen
but felt!
And it pulls through,
tears out you,
you’re missing something
and loosening at the seams
and those lights and sounds and shapes
course in and out you
with the rhythm of your veins
and in those paralyzed, aching seconds
your whole world flows to the
earthen heart-beat,
awake and naked.
You collapse,
wide-eyed and dying,
finally falling,
landing from your glorious leap.
Sweat pours,
and your back feels fragile against the sheets.
This is the new fever.

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