Curiously down beneath the open.

More than one hand is furiously woven,

Where eyes no longer see skin attached,

And only feeling survives where flesh is wrapped,

And captured more than single threads,

Twisted round the edge of beds,

The mouths of whom stretch open wide,

Lapping up secrets that drip from force applied.

Curiously seeking pleasure leaking,

Echoing from the mouth-less speaking,

And reaching,

Feeling blindly in the moment,

Searching where the strands are woven,

Curiously down inside the open,

Thirsting for some words unspoken,

Within the effortless feeling of muscles meeting,

Repeating, only answers with no meaning.