Making Love to Love Itself

You don't love me. Watch out. I move You away from me but no bring You closer I want You now and still You want me, always and forever. We kiss. Your bottom lip form of imagination so much like body of person. We move, still kissing I tease and You never would. So I'm in control. I am power and Yours to be exact, Zen arrow target Being. Your humility troubles me, so much that it bothers but I lack resist. We move, closer to my bed and soon into that. Dick stoned, still and in motion penetration quenched. Inside You it has all of You all at once, in lonely moment. This time its for You all for Your pleasure this thing called sex. Turned. Into the makings of that which creation creates in creating. An overlapping sickness of love atop love. Multifaceted lovemaking here comes its consequence: a nut. So atrocious my victory, lay upon egg. But You are a maker without tools and You are a mystery unsolved bold and embracing You accept and receive. But its not over You want more Your desire is unmatched Your wanting uncontrolled willingly free You send for me another its Satanical Anti. We do it, all Together. That oochie coochie our oneness its goodness and all in good sin, we piece together our nondualistic frolic. We sex so much it turns to fuck and there here lies contradiction of love... Would you want me should I be good health and not sickness? What attention would I hold should I have done this right? So I don't, for the sake of your eye.