On writing and coming

Writing is just like coming.
An orgasm in words
Waiting breathlessly to be ejaculated.

The joy of the agony of waiting
Impaled on the jagged brink of peaks of pleasure
Only a deluge will now satisfy me.    

Come Come Come
Burn Burn Burn
Write Write Writhe.

Lying empty                                       
My thoughts an inviting seminal pool on the paper
Come closer and I will draw you into the quicksand of my come
Imprison and drown you
In this world of my making.
Till kingdom come

Death do us part.