Revolt of Sensuality

I wear a ravished redcoat
of inveiglement,
trampling across the eager front lines of your bed.
You welcome me
like envelope hands that long for completion in a letter.
My grass-like fingers sway
along the rises of your chest,
while my infiltrous legs
crawl across your thighs, hunting,
setting fire to your grounding
with my own.
I lead my toes, sweltering,
toward the frosty arches and heels of your feet,
soothing you.
My lips curl slowly,
pealing open upon your jaw line,
wavering on your skin
like an index finger on a metal trigger.
Bullet kisses fire through you,
fighting from my barrel tongue.
I’ll decorate your body
with gunshot wounds
before long.
The edges of my nails skate down
your bouldering abdomen,
naval, inner hips, upper thighs.
Your skin pricks up like a thousand soldier tents
across a desert plane.
I overwhelm your rations of reasonability,
disarming you.
The handcuffs cut
off the blood to your hands,
incarceration.
I captivate your attention,
your physicality,
forever mine as a prisoner of war.