dimension y

you and i are lovecraftian creatures trapped within an ephemeral limbo in the intersection of mayhem and make-believe.

we speak in silence, through glyphs of poetry and saffron orbs that convey your faceless expressions. i am seethed by the minutia of your mind and paralyzed by your orgasmic reveries.

this is our total perspective vortex.

this is the moebius conduit of our arguments, the black hole sepulcher of our insecurities.

here, we dance with our demons in the pale liquid crystal light until we are severed from the parareal knot to return to our vessels of flesh and hair as mere mortals in hiding.

i miss you my monstress inamorata. my loins ache for your odylic aura.

arise and mutilate my senses.