Hypoxic Stimulations

The tides rush in, murmuring
salty words upon my skin, a pleasure
like pushing a pin, into each tingling
nerve ending, alive with the knowledge
of being touched.

Desire burns like the sea, stinging
eyes, blinked back tears, threats
to steal my cries, torn from lips
like clouds blown in a hurricane,
still I slip deeper beneath the waves.

Breath flees in broken bubbles, rushed
out as the mind swirls into darker places,
the dizzy dash of days unmarked, a thought
as broken as time, grasped straws slip away,
and nothing matters but the break…

SJW