trying to create, 15 pg extended fragment:

erupting, language.

inventing a vehicle/model for the innate language, erupting at birth of new being.

Color impressing white, absorbing all light, I am shadowed. Behind thoughts, comfort, black beneath lids, open and I am there, too, attaching myself. These inky lips lip off, feeling, in the void you will know all. Is this me? Inked. Love all over my mouth. Nothing physical, but a presence, unattainable, essence, unavoidable. Take in and in and in, until displaced, breathing fragments, exploding, air!, space where heart did not beat, us women becoming sexed ourselves, all at once, shoving into mouth, suffocating words, immediately breathless. 

(many words between)

Dressed in bloom, passion petals, walls radiate romance, the soul’s season, swollen, opening, wider, wider, always coming into, bloom, season of the self. Eyes of others becoming dilated, mouths hanging happily loose. Sleeping, whoever with me, will dream inside my mind’s boudoir. Have become participant in desire’s life, man discovers darkness, my best-kept secrets. Soul surrendering to speculation, help tie my hands back, secrecy of sensuality no longer, so hush, speaking most often inside silent room. Doors open wide, letting you pass through, stay awhile. 

Coating walls, warm paint, dried density, deflecting light, viscera veneer, closing out city life, thousand wanderers faithfully pursuing night, to be made to be had in a metropolitan tempo, how cosmopolitan!, commercialism is so popular, in vogue, capitalism, exchanging private for profit, “please, I only wish to sleep with you once” then, become attached to the couch, a passive romance. I will respect anyone who tells me what it is they want. Opportunity to live fantasy, defines hypothetical. Your want isn’t my want, shame on we, won’t play the exchange game. Respect prudism.

Harmony pervading, blended ylang ylang, patchouli, French lavender, thyme. Hypothetical, too, having one sense, olfactory, this bedroom could be from anywhere in the world. Refuge of wanderlust, sleeping here. Permanently breathing different air, poison for the logic, seeping through, sleeper’s amorous dreams, palpable, erotic cinema? Unlikely. We are literary minds, textual beings, principally psychic. No worry Mom. Desiring visuals, self-desiring subjects, subjects desiring self, defines pornography, unavoidable tension. We should not be made to feel bad, embarrassed by self-consciousness, resisting innate outward drive, I oppose denial.