The only man that knows the taste of poison lives in a cemetery and is sleeping under his own tombstone but unlike poison, same cannot be said about lunacy.
Don't be fooled, the world we live in follows the pattern of a certain form of lunacy that has been accepted and shared globally. It has been so widespread and humans have come to give this new cohabitation a name. The call it "the norm".
In the midst of this acceptable lunacy called norm, is always a rare occurrence of lunacy that gets incubated in the heart and ends up corrupting the mind with wild imaginations of soft kisses on heads on soft pillows owned by bodies under soft duvets.
The lunacy I talk about is always below ground level so your first verb to it will always be a fall.
Your first sense of this lunacy was sight. The day you saw doom in a manner that made you think we all lied about the devil. His dreamy eyes had blue tint and his hair was a thousand times better than the best quality of wool you could ever Imagine. His body was like that of the Hercules you read about in your classes of Greek mythology. Tall, fair and all shades of handsome in complexion and when he added a smile to the picture, damm! You had found the perfect prince charming for your lunatic story and if anyone told you he was Lucifer, you were willing to walk through hell with this creature.
The second sense of the lunacy was sound. You know the ears have great powers when it comes to the creation and paranoia and this is exactly what his "hey girl" did to you. In the eternity of a split second, you could testify even before God that you had heard the voice of one of his angels.
Sad to say but your sixth sense came third in all this. She just like you was lost in the story you were writing in your head. You made your nights sleepless because your bed and pillows couldn't offer the comfort your imaginations did. You allowed him become a regular character in the screenplay of your dreams in the little pockets of time you couldn't cheat sleep. Slowly he was winning you over and by the time he had your sixth sense fully, all that was left out just needed a little calling to win over.
You lost your senses of smell, taste and touch under one moon visit.
"A hand to hold
A heart to love
A lip to kiss
A heaven to feel"
You only leaned in closer to smell what heaven felt like when it happened. You were still lost in the floral explosions your nose was getting from the gardens of Babylon when the taste came. You weren't ready for it but what's the point of declining something that tasted good when your tongue was telling you clearly that it wanted this and nothing else. Heaven sure tasted and smelt good, for once, you knew there was more to the lips and tongue than covering the mouth and saying words.
You couldn't think of the sweet things you had tasted before like chocolate, strawberry, cakes, sugar, honey, milk, and vanilla because none of them was a match for Lucifer's tongue and that's how you knew why lies were sweet and the truth was bitter.
To crown it all, you needed to open the doors for him to find a way inside you and that was how the last sense came about. Touch. He touched you so well. First with his tongue and then with his third leg. You welcomed him into you with closed eyes, soft moan and a tight grip of the duvet and in he was to do wonders in your wetness and succulence.
Once in, he kept running in and out in a progressive rhythm. He did it so well that you didn't need words to tell you he had a mastery of what he was doing. You weren't ignorant either, you responded to every thrust with the right moaning note to match and for a good ride, you knew when to tighten and loosen the carriage way. Slowly and quiet gasping, then a little bit faster and a peaceful call for "harder", then a fast pace with closed eyes and a more soulful moan, then the fastest came last with you screaming in the euphoria of lunacy until you became a storm with gargantuan waves of orgasm slamming the doors of your womanhood and making it's walls quiver. This was heaven. You couldn't think otherwise as he gushed his liquid seedlings inside you. That night was weather for two.
To think that this lunacy you were living was forbidden was impossible. How could something so sweet be given such a bad tag? Truly you were convinced that when it came to this, ignorance was not bliss but missing out.
Then a time came when he played the endgame. Lucifer he was and Lucifer shall he remain. You only knew of the few beauty of hell and by the time you knew of the countless horror it held, your soul was lost already.
In the end of the story, you get to wail from a never ending pain and when asked about what love intertwined in lust meant, you only spit at your disgusting past and say it's simple lunacy. Such understatement!
© Ifiokobong Etuk
( KING of the QUILL )
Picture credit shutterstock.com
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