- Erotic Poetry
- Non-Euclidean
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Click hereYour body is a hypersurface
convex, concave, complex.
Top wraps to bottom,
left wraps to right.
A closed complete space
from which my very sight
and thought cannot escape.
All lines parallel
that so unplanar plain
of geometric skin
along which points, compelled,
stream towards one perfect
nexus where all things
critical converge.
Where the belly’s gentle
curve, twin arcs of inner
thighs, meet those final
tender
sinusoidal folds.
Singularity.
Sweet gravity well
that captures swelled
emotions, genital.
- COMMENTS
I hardly ever forget that I am a torus. You have reminded me again.
there is an old joke, about everything either being concave or convex, no wonder all I think about is sex.
Well done t-baby, consistent thoughout
OMG - we're back in school here;
with a new study of geometry
that'd make a man's brain swell...