Opiate of the Masses ('Dani Bug')

Her quivering touch leaves
A trail of glowing coals down the
Tail of my spine. Her citrus
Fragrance floats in her
Wake. Her hair is aflame
From my
Flailing loving. Why is my soul
Not exploding from the happiness?

So graceless, my little love.
So artlessly ingenuous your loving.
So exquisite you feel, when your
Sunny sighs drip like clotted
Honey from your half-open lips.
When my grooved finger
Rounds one of your bends, and you
Bound and twitch and strain
Against the pleasure.
Move through
Higher plains of consciousness, when
I call across the hills,
To pray
Your name.

…

Surely this happiness is
Worship? Physical love is my new ideology.
Your body is my temple, I enter
To pray.