It is the tap of the soul
that ignites the mind
the body close behind
and when the paper runs out
the words never do
in my sleep they scream
and shout
always on the united screw
of the interlocked worlds
scouring about.

It should not take much
to spread her legs
those words, one touch
you got her entrapped in your webs.

At least she knows trauma
spreads her internal drama
all over the kitchen table
in sexy New York aprons
with no underwear
and tons and tons
of unmarked cars peeking in her lair.

He loves the show
and makes her dance
she shakes her hair
in a stoned trance.

She has to cook
buy protein shakes
read her favourite book
with nipples erect
continues her bakes.

And the soul
keeps on tapping away
waking her up.