The Monsoon.

Last thought: hung me out, with dead leaves,
death valley pit, waited for the storm to tide me over,
prayed for rain and the ocean wept and with the tide,
came his brown eyes and wolf form.
I was out in the fog to breathe, as he ruptured in me…volcanic summoning,
we held the secret, he whispered: “tell no one.”
burning, i was holy down in the devil’s inferno from between my thighs, I was sublime and relentless,
looking for possession, from his dirty whiskey dream,
puncturing me and hunting for more flesh,
cling to the remnants of an empty bed.
First thought: left me in his rain, came cumming fractal stars, all dead,
in the caves of love, 
all moaning in our dizzying image, visuals of a god-like deity,
half as honest, but three times the goddess in any of his infinite arms,
torrent after torrent, he plunged into the depths, he dare not ask my name,
I dare not ask for his, treasure-trove, hetero-angel from the cursed throne,
punished every living rose from my garden sky, I came to cry and left with blood,
all numb from between my chest grew his flower.
little colored boy found eternity in the mouth of his fallen savior,
fallen into women with his spear, cut into their quiver,
I shiver at the thought of tainted flesh against my distressed skin,
but this is what it was like to be in love with a God,
a prayer to his holy land, and in my mouth he left only his name intact,
the shreds of love have cut no ties and he came rushing back when tired of them.
I waited for months, when he shattered my battered window and found me again, rotting with want, I sat and took it all, volcanic summoning,
a tsunami wave, he took, and from the dry spell,
resurrected an ancient calling, a ritual of dust and a must to come and conjure,
every temptation out of me.
Last thought: in the aftermath, we rest and test our devotion,
rush and bust, in the desert we roam, and he looms,
from his return came a monsoon.~

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