inside sounds

the throat bubbles, creaks. it's the sound of you swallowing, oh so good, some french fries. and whether it's the heartbeat or the intestines that pound blood, i can hear your insides from far away. i can hear you not thinking about me, feel you not making eye contact with me, smell indifference. the vibrations--jesus vibrates--reach me.

decibles.

so your insides--are they for me to hear? i guess i should turn away, fingers in my wax, but i can't really resist peeping at your pulse without having to have my face over a breast (a vein by the mandible is clearly seething), judging. you love?

come closer. no, i'll scoot over, glance over a book when the stomach sings, repress my glup of water. are my insides compatible with yours? do i fit?

since two people more or less make the same motion during sex, i think penetration just kind of disappears and is more or less replaced by the drive to merge. back and forth, i wish there were some elliptical or angular mode of sexing. so i stop being a penetrator and you an embracer, just connecting at this one point from which radiating connection spills out. wrong sound.