May your thumbs be stripped from the poisonous layer,

That distracts the eyes from reality,

The blinks of light, the flashes away,

The mind is less when near

Oh can you hear my speech of words,

Or are they whispers as you stroke the surface?

Crowded room, unknown faces,

Mumbles of curiousity pass around,

One moment of sweat passes through and the hands replace the fear,

No need for insecurities when the layer is near,

A glance, a shivering touch, from the foreskin does not come to pass in your mind,

A universe, a world, right beneath.

Why need this topside? Why need?

All she needs is right deep.

The thorny talks, the unaccepted silence, no need.

No need.

The world, the universe, her universe is right deep.

As me, my dear, from behind, sees you slip right beneath,

I whisper to myself,

"I can see that I am lost to you now, my dear."