Midnight (also not finished)

In the center of an unpacked closet
inbetween leather coats and stylin hats
lies two individuals
names are not important
neither is light
for the name of the game is fun
and the clock
just struck midnight

his hands scout pitch black pockets
while her sweat glistens raging sonnets
gaping holes render their eyes useless
the sense of touch is king
and taste is but a pawn
for the name of the game is fun
and its only midnight
we've only just begun

her body shivers, draped with fear
and canvassed with delight
his hands approach
slowly without hesistance
breathe escapes
mollecules of oxygen bouncing
atoms of hydrogen giggling
they bounce inbetween where
reservations and excuses would have been
recently killed by the silence of sight
but here darkness runs the show
for the clock
just struck midnight

he inhales parched perfume
as his hands find skin
gently glistening and afraid
goosebumps meet eager flesh
she exhales her last breathe
and inhales something entirely different
exhuberance...lack of encumberance
its hard to name or define
such a feeling rarely encurred
the rush of ghosts within each inch
of a gap slowly closing
cotton is but an endangered species
for the name of the game is fun
and its far past midnight
12:01.

toungues empowered with taste
meet and greet in quick fashion
eye sockets vacantly closing
under flittering lids
wanting to roll back
and accept defeat
each nerve electrifyed
yearning to feel
droplets fall
onto an invisible platform
meant to host
two thundering beasts
her skin reverbs
breathe panting
so much faster
his fingers juggle
around bare skin
imperfections rendered moot
finding themselves
grasping seamless ecstacy
dont you wish you were there?
might be too late for you
for the name of the game is fun
and its 12:02.

Her neck pounds
underneath suckling
soft amber skin
melts upon his own
her fingernails pardoned
now scrape onto
shoulders extending
pain and pleasure
such a fine line
disappearing with stretched skin
she whispers infidelities
as vowels and verbs escape
into thick musty air
she cries out
words of pleasing soily dispair
all forms of proper
now turned to lust
dont you wish that was you and me?
never too late darlin
only 12:03

her hair now flowing
colorless strands turned loose
mixing with his own
saliva running rampant
down her gleaming neck
invisible to their eyes
once two masquerading
reduced to one force
invading
powerless to resist
fingerprints needing to spread
along now bare invitations
heading south for the summer heat
her head snaps back
she awaits so much more
already getting sweaty?
I think I hear 12:04