this blasphemous mask, I serve a life sentence in anonymity;
just a singer without song, a poet without a muse. Still,
isolation does little to alter the impotence of my reality.
These eyes still see, the skin still remembers the
heat of another’s touch and feeling fails
to hush the chatter of
my imagination. Hypnotic thoughts and visions of you
cries out for liberation, releasing your shine to
dissolve and illuminate my dark.
Eager to recapture every
note of our flesh to flesh serenade, I
nostalgically douse and immerse
the ache of this awakened
passion within the
pulse of your
This surreal symphony dresses my dreams with rabid
fragrances of ecstasy, that seeps through the gaps
and cracks of my staggered heart. Is it late
or early, time is unknown me; for my
psyche howls with anticipation
and the walls of my

restraint shivers with sweat.
Now soiled with silence,
i’ve become undone.
Here, aroused and
alone in this
place i’m
left wanting;
unsheathe the
prize… finish me.

Niky’s Ink

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