a piece with two endings

Words are rushing to my head. Boiling up, up there in my head.
They keep coming, rushing, a stream, a flow, only a few nonsense, most lining one after another, as if ideas, in sentences, in paragraphs. My head is still lying on my arm, my body lying on the couch.
Words keep rushing and my hands are weary to start moving on the paper, on the keyboard; my body feels weak, every part of it, every tiny cell of it.
Words rush in and my hands still feel numb under the very same head that is weighing heavy with words.
Words rush in. i am writing up in my head.
The music soars high and i suddenly feel this urge to make love; my heart beat quickens, my chest feels heavy with its presence. The music beat, the words, the story, the urge, the desire, my heart beat ...
(1) My body just collapses under the pressure. It faints, not ready for all this.
The music continues.
My body just dies away with every note.
(2) All are rushing inside me, undressing me, softly, slowly, violently, quickly. the music beat, the words, the words, they are touching me everywhere; kissing me here and there;
I feel my heart pacing up to keep with the flow, with all that is running through me, my veins, my cells.
I breathe in, I breathe out. I feel the rush, i feel the words, the music, the story, the urge, the desire.
I have written my piece. I have had my orgasm.