The Match

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

every wrestler needs a ring, sometimes on velvety surfaces or whatever the occasion happens to bring, but most importantly, it takes the right partner to have in sparring.

wish i could wrestle you, in every instant learn and share new moves, and so able to put my mind on a shelf too. doesn't matter if that shelf breaks, not all studs in walls or floors made to handle such quakes, bodies slamming like a collision of oceans, tsunamis and distant shores furthest from consequence as bright lights consume each victor's moment.

i've a Ring in the making, not just one for putting on fingers and adorning its placing, but also for wrestlers, one where there's no end to release, of what flows of fluids and emotion finding themselves ever intermixing. maybe a private gym and a cage and even a stage, settings and scenery conformed to what we deign to conceive.

the invitation has been sent, royally sealed by the Owner, waiting for one statement to fall from your lips before its done and delivered, so Then we're freed from pay-per-view...and our matches, they last as long as we wish them to.