M-0-N-0

Spellbound I am not enchanted. The dreams come but they are not dreams at all and I am not asleep. Your hand sliding up my thigh and your groan slicks itself onto my neck, embeds itself into my skin. I wear the remnants of your ecstasy in my flesh still. It crawls when any other nears it. It came to be that your bed-side clock replaced my fearful heartbeat as I laid in stasis and hoped - for a passing; of time, of fingers, of life. I cannot sleep with ticking in my ear anymore I don't think of time running out, but of paralysis. I think of lapses of concentration, of tongues, of temperaments. I think of those slow burning momen