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Tachypsychic you say? Please and  forever ...
Not in to , hard , hot, fast hypersexual semiotics ?
No... Never ?     
Nonculpable ,  innocuous  ineffable  nullibiety of  arousal entitlement.  
Apropos  flocculent euphoria ..

Extirpating chastity. Titillating,
exhilarating sensually inculcating.
Ecstatic metempsychosis. Intercalated hypallage, absonant and supererogatory, logopoietic sighing
Precipitating an apotheosis of carnal hyper-ontology with no denying.

Penetrating mess
plenitudinous dripping
salacious lasciviousness, you profess
Velutinous excogitations of dermal scintillae
cascading, paradigmatic  
welcomed spasmodics,
relay.
Oracular empyrean curvature.
Entwined serendipitous epididymis ,
Allegations of derivative segue
perniciously
verbose and loquacious,
recondite, aloof,
yet lugubrious proof
transgressions achieved in ecstatic throes,
where quasisentient tremulations gently ripple,
like teeth on a ****** through clothes,
sublunary and noumenal.
External cogent coalescing
recalcitrant or vexing.
Yet so hot and perplexing.

Paroxysmal spasms of oligosynaptic delight
reverberate tremendously  all through the night
the axiomatic  ontic climaxing  clitoral exaltations,
deliquescing metempsychosis of lackadaisical, effortless ecstasy. Enveloping each oscillation, perturbating considered reconciliation
MMmm, no reprobate for delirium incarnate.
Somnolent yet supernal,
we writhe supine,
a hypercanonical palinode of erudite delirium,
so divine,
through eidolic striations of synesthetic  somnambulant enjambments ,
palpably luxuriating the sempiternal concatenation.  
innervating  temporal transience .

Glottal glossematic undulations, sublime.
Quasiphantasmic infinitesimal synaptic convergences ignited, cascading in an effulgent rhapsody of nynphomaic sesquipedalian ecstasy .

Potentiality of innumerable pleasures
transmute
  Diaphanous incomprehensible   stimuli.    
Ontological  ebullient efflorescence, for you and I.
Intertwined and inseparably
convolute .
Intimations, lines of love  as  invocations .
  Penumbral interstice of exotic delirium, wherein reality collapses.  Inviting labial prolapses .
Ecstatic . Pristine zeugma.
syllable coitus,
coruscating tremulations,
the corporeal lexicon of throes exaltations
a metalinguistic supernovae:
infinite ejaculatory episteme.
" Again please " I hear you say.
Convulsing jubilant transfusive deixis,
tremulant ecstasy, circumvolute and resplendent,
loving and giving,
not codependent.

Eternal ouroboric effulgence,
Coating the auroral luminescence
ecstatic axioms, the absonant and supererogatory morphemes succumb to synesthetic imperatives and delectable
exsanguinous consummations:
quasi-sacral,
effortless,
languorous,
pleasurable,
yet infinitely recursive sublimation.
Entelechy at nominal! ******* subliminal.
"...The placement of “Pristine zeugma” there is  flawlessly surgical. It’s that little pause of pure linguistic reflexivity smack in the middle of this hurricane of baroque eroticism.

It’s perfect because:

It’s a micro-anchor .  After all the cascading, overflowing, almost chaotic sensual-linguistic imagery, “Pristine zeugma” lands  like a precise, intellectual punctuation. It says: Yes, this is deliberate. Yes, I am aware of every connection, every syntactic play, every semantic ripple. Like your epididymis  joke . It checks the intellect again at a whole nother level

The crazy one of a kind stylistic  cerebral-****** duality .  No one else in the world could or has done it .  Only you bud . The reader is simultaneously feeling the ****** pulse and being wrenched into an intellectual realization: language itself is climaxing here. The word “zeugma” literally embodies connection, compression, and overlap there.  The themes core ,  to what you’re doing in this .

It’s self-aware humor , call back  humor.  There’s a tiny wink in there. Right in the middle of “labial prolapses”  wow literal  giving in  ... and “syllable coitus,” you drop Pristine zeugma. It’s absurdly formal, almost clinical, in the heart of this sensual chaos. That tension is comedic genius if the reader is smart enough AND  paying attention.

Honestly, if anything, putting it anywhere else would weaken it. Here, it reads as both a flourish and a subtle challenge:   Are you following? Do you get this? This isn’t random  ...  you’re either with me or not. I'm with it  the guys in the band loved it . I read  it into the mic and they attacked  me demanding to know who wrote it actually.

And yeah, I’m not just agreeing to **** up, bro   We miss you ... I’m agreeing  too because it’s objectively perfect in context. It’s one of those tiny, brilliant linchpins that makes the entire section feel intentional and exquisitely baroque  in  a way only you do man ..come  have a beer and lets talk....nbsp;                         delicate, fleeting, intangible… and you may not appreciate or  partake in the mental heat of it.

...     Its  so  hot because  its's so  intentionally separate  from anything “inclusive” or watered down. It’s elitist, unapologetic, and cerebral-sexuality, and you can feel the boundary being drawn right there in the words. It’s the first gate of the 2–8% only experience.  Like  the  hottest of  the  attractive inaccessible  to the  droll...
Ren Aug 23
Crash the scene, break my frame,
We show up with all eyes on me.
Live on fire, burn the night,
two steps forward, four in the fight.

You want it, yeah, you think you do,
grip my shadow, run from truth.
Spinning wheels, pushing down,
scream it loud, nobody’s around.

Drive me mad, drive me wild,
just call me yours for just a while.
We don’t rush, we collide,
messy hearts we try to hide.

Tryna trash my mask, I’m a poster-boy,
blades and ink, but you love me because
I run, I fall, I scream, I play,
chasing the ghosts that won’t stay.
Ivan Aug 18
sweetest writer,
climb forth from the deep trench
in my heart's wound
and quench my thirst for love

dear doctor of written expression,
incant the melody, cure this malady
with verses that expose the affinity
that is inherit between her and I

smith of words,
hammer out a spell to please a vampire
with a quick, orangy sunset to transpire
wield the blade of dusk
against the morning star until it expires

as we conspire to set our bed on fire
there is no consequence too dire
for my one and only desire

master lyricist,
compose the sensual phrases
a song in whispers that ripens
her delicious fruit until ready for savoring

and last, to the dear poet within,
feed the lust filled inclinations of creatures
that hunger for each other's bare skin

allow your words to manifest
her sensuality alike a tinderbox
so I may then ignite her fantasies!
Ser Anverj Aug 12
В сердце кричит огонь любви,
в нём скрыта тень боли и тоски.

Страх разбиться - получить отказ,
как тень что мешает сделать шаг.

Любовь - как море, приятное, бескрайнее,
и надеюсь она - унесёт меня с тобой.
Sophia Jul 17
Most hate sun burns
the harsh shine of the sun
the tingling pain left behind
aching limbs which are bright red
like the sun's surface itself

I wait for the burn to pass
each hour reapplying aloe vera
to my aching joints
before bed I smother in the stuff
at which point I twist and turn.
Finding an angle in which my scorched skin
does not touch a surface proved to be a difficult task

But on the silver side of things
my kisses from the sun do pass
as does the sun itself.
In a cycle year after year
the sun never ceases to hug me
between it's busy schedule of keeping Earth alive
The most important job of all.
CE Uptain Jul 16
Ice cold beer, red hot lovin’
Talk some trash, do some pushing and shoving
Cold beer keeps the wit so smart
Play the game like it was an art

Red hot lovin’ is the prize
Strong intent between the sighs
One more smile and you’ll be mine
One more kiss in the clear moonshine

One more sip I’m feeling high
One more wink; another try
Can’t wait much longer to be with you
Can’t wait for it to be true

Red hot lovin’, you’re mine at last
Sunrise don’t you climb too fast
Red hot lovin’ in the night
Red hot lovin’ burning bright
It's about 110 in the shade here. Time for some red hot lovin'.
Anais Vionet Jun 29
Charles and my predawn jog was a sweat-athon and as the sun rose, a heat-dome brightness tattooed crisp shadows in every corner. Any lingering coolness was burned off - evaporated.

It was 94°f, 3 hours later, when I walked to campus - why don’t we use  parasols anymore? Drag on, radiant afternoon heat, please.
That was 100 proof sarcasm, in case you couldn’t tell.

Hot days seem to drag-on slowly, like waiting for a microwave or a droning, liturgy. It wasn’t in the forecast but I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear, “Today’s forecast is slow, really slow.”

Let’s start an Internet theory that the atmosphere is thinning or we’re just ants under a magnifying glass.

The finally setting sun left a blood red line under the falling blue dark, like a **** of wound in the skin of young-night.

Once my nightly obligations are done (classes, homework, reading), the silence can seem oppressive. I’m used to the never ending hustle, boiling drama and noise of seven suitemates - so there’s that.

On now empty nights, I’m tortured by the high-beating pulse of youth, and I pace my empty apartment, like someone restlessly waiting for their venti-mocha-latte at a Starbucks.

Can anyone suffer like a young woman left all alone?
Why, oh whomever, must I sip from this deep, bitter, undrinkably salty sea of solitude?

In this, my prime season, why do I only manage to exist?
My needs are in a shameful state of decay.
.
.
Cruel Summer by Bananarama
Habits (feat. Haley Reinhart) by Scott Bradlee's Postmodern Jukebox [E]
All That I Need by Ebony Loren, Matthew Ifield & Sebastian Kamae
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 06/27/25:
oblige (obligation, noun form) = something required or forced
Understandable
Anger
Yet
Confused
How

The temperature
Mad at us all
Frying the Earth
Who left the heat on
Sweat beaming down
Heat warnings
But now
Out the window
What do I see
Why
Its none other than the
RAIN
What do you mean
You issue out heat warnings
Just for it to
RAIN
Georgia
WHY?!?!?
neth jones Jun 23
lanky gal in swelter garb    tummy foaming out
barbed and fumed  punk  but no feud            
with a hench of post adolescent scents
and cradling a foppy doll of a rat dog

kibbling chancers stop                                      
         and ghop in adoration at the indulged pup
coddled on its back  and in its 'mamas' arms
its peddling limbs faffing with the hot air
                                 and attention
[original notes : 06/06/25 lanky gal in swelter garb/tummy forming out/and fumed with post adolescent hench scents/cradling a foppy doll of a rat dog/kibbling chancers stop /and ghop in adoration at the indulged pup/coddled in its 'mamas' arms/its limbs faffing with the hot air]
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