Abiding Mad Love


If I could make love to you,
I'd skillfully, like a demented
surgeon remove your heart and
tear it in pieces, shred it
into a million micro-dots ...
- then, slowly, meticulously
mend it with sweet sticky
kisses, pasting your heart with
my passion, washing and purifying
it in the Holy Water of my blood,
and into a new discovery of
eroticism, beyond Tantra, forcing
the Angels in heaven to sing our
praise, while Satan's imps blush
from anger for failing to consider
such lustful delights.

If I could make love to you,
I'd rip your soul from your naked
body, leaving in its wake a cold
cadaver, lifeless, inviting to
maggots . then, with the
deliberate concentration of a
quantum physicist with a god
complex, I would restore your
soul through the pineal gland,
awakening your Third Eye,
capillaries, veins, muscles,
forcing your neuro-synapses to
snap, crackle and pop like
lightning bolts - and you would
cry "I'm So Alive," your skin
shimmering ecstatically as if it
metamorphed into a field of
flittering Monarchs.

If I could make love to you,
I'd hold you together into a
whole you, as if defying the
tectonic plates from separating,
ensuring the planet's land mass
remain as one. My loving embrace,
without haste would prevent a single
part of you to escape, as would an
ancient Egyptian mortician, I'd wrap
you into a mummy shape, abiding our
love for thousands of years so
generations would stare and wonder
at relics, ageless, like the Taj
Mahal.

And if all this sounds extreme . then,
know - If I could make love to you,
your orgasmic pleasures would be as
delirious as my imagination.


Jalil Muntaqim © 2010