Recall how good it is to lay on down?
Hot, red plasma circulates with my blood cells.
Mouth goes dry; becomes difficult to swallow; breath rages ragged through opened throat.
It’s drawn to me smoothly, in swooping slides, over every atmospheric inch.
How I howl at the peals of divided bells.
I feel loose energy collect within my solar plexus.
Drawn, it smoothly slides to me, from every atmospheric inch.
The knots in my muscles, of my shoulders, and of their blades, tied tautly by ligaments and tendons, loosen.
Flowing like an Atlantic trade wind current.
Centralizing into two, respective, congealed spheres of non-corporeal matter.
Aflush and blushed at being
caught while not
upon my toes and ready,
to repel your compelling compulsion.
I turn my face until mostly obscured.
Setting in: slight, wide-eyed, grin