Sex = SOULMATES – ‘”Nocturne”
“are Soulmates born or made?”
In the Tantric Garden, Sex is sacred. In blindness we reach out to touch, to connect. This garden of existence demands that we inhale life through our every pore, and the central need of life is that we must share the flame that warms us or risk its ultimate extinction. There could be no garden without the mystery and joy of pollination and propagation; doubling and tripling not just our chances of survival but intensifying our savor and our senses.
The garden becomes a hugely hungry mouth, a pulsating groin, and we moan with it. The shock of the sublime. To live the dream is to become the dream. We are constituted for pleasure; igniting and increasing pleasure in a firework display that mimic the creation of the universe itself. Relationships solidify; two strengthen into one; frail flesh solidifies and love itself becomes unbreakable.
Spring is mating. We are searching for our lost half, our better AND our worse self. As we transform from a helpless to an intentional person, we seek the self we have been all along, as they seek themselves in us.
NOCTURNE
You reveal
Yourself to me
To my inner palate
An artist’s palette
Moth-winged hands
Fluttering
Out the phases of your moon-flat belly your
Crescent thighs surging
Urging
Union undivided
Prickly venus flytrap hairs that guard
Your anis scented anus open up
Your fleshy mandibles
For a toothless suck
In trembling sheaves
Grouting for your smoky-salted dinner
Double-snouted cock stiffens in
My mango halves
O I will baste you when its time
With angel-spit, with love-spawn
Dip you in my styx of roe
Musky caviar
You sensate wanderer you
Suck
Ubus
I know you
Open me.
Alysse Aallyn 
Leave a comment