*"Beneath the Skin of Wanting"**

We tremble in the undertow of flesh—  

a symphony of gasps, a riptide of fingers.  

Her voice cracks the night like a vow,  

each scream a rebellion against the quiet  

of what we’re *supposed* to be.  

This is how holiness unravels:  

not with a fall, but a *leap*—  

morality dissolves into stardust  

as desire stitches itself back  

into something feral, alive.  

We are the reckoning.  

The altar.  

The forbidden psalm hummed into sweat.  

Tell me, when the body becomes a cathedral,  

what survives of the soul?  

Touch her like a confession.  

Let the world burn  

in the furnace of *yes*.  

Here, in the ruins of restraint,  

we become both the sin  

and the sacrifice.