READING.

The way you read turns me on. Not in the way that your brain thinks but in the way that you make my world move. You read so softly in only a tone I can vibrate to and it turns me to a different vibration. I love the way you read because you read to me poetry. Poetry from your soul, from your being, from your sultry body of being. Read to me before bed so I can dream of you. So I can dream of the life meant for us two. Read me in the daylight to prepare me for the fight outside. Read to me in daylight to show them you are only mine without having to tell them you are mine. Reading from your brain is the source. You carry the source of knowledge and the way the world turns. You have a lovely voice that carries a tune only birds know. They love you dearly. Read to me until your aching soul says no more. Keep reading until your aching soul says no more. No more reading and I will be fine but if you stop I will die. Read to me in a tone only the birds will know. Read the wall, the words are in the air. They speak to me. Do not stop reading at all. Read more and more until your heart says no more. You moved the world more than enough. Enough is enough but I need more. I want more and more until my brain shuts off. It is the only way my body and my soul work together to shut my mind off. That’s what you get for wanting more. That’s my molestation case. It is the way my brain works.