Dreams

In my head a mess of dreams - hot bodies sweating and grinding against each other in war, in battle, in lust; it is an argument and a challenge for which pride rises instead of falls. Each body is battling the other as sweat and wetness cover the trembling skins who nerves strings are so tight the muscle has swollen to form curves the other is jealous of. The grinding turns into assault, assault of the senses as ignition makes a gear which is hard to race after. One of the bodies stops being an equal opponent and turns into a flag which tops the geared up body on the run. New signs are created, and inequality turns into a rampage which the other uses to win. It's an orgasm; a hot, fired up, orgasm, which bursts sweat vessels and makes the tyres burn. Moans turn into hot panting breath - like fog - surrounding the world of red heat. It makes me sweat, it makes me shiver - then I wake; hot sweat trembling down shivering skin as I wake myself with a slap.