There is no recipe for ecstasy.
The skin writes its
own spells, skin on skin.
We stir in the things
that make you shudder
with prophesy.
We stir the bowl with
bruises and blessings,
talking dirty with the holies
parts of your body, your wrists begging
for ropes.
The skin writes its
own spells, page for page.
Ecstasy is all throat and mouth,
a cauldron of sense and semen,
all anus, all eye.
Originally published October 2007 - "Kink"