My Cardboard Balcony

Minor Wordplay by Belinda Roddie eclipse in a jar of sorrow how I wish it'd end tomorrow so I'd ride on an tornado and become a desperado

Their love making session seemed endless. It was an unyielding circle of warmth, of sweat and pulsations and buzzes and hums. It was as if they were growing extra legs to wrap around each other’s exoskeletons, shaking and shuddering as if to further increase and intensify the heat. If they had had wings, they would have beat rapidly and loudly, like the growling of jets that struck the skies like steel dragonflies.