Swan Dive.

I do not completely, and in every way fear you –

Not in the way that he threw a curse upon me to;

I still get warmed up by that appeal, so real and true;

A truth he failed to forever ruin with shades of black and blue.

I’m not so afraid of you – that I have no tendencies, no intrigue;

My body yearns for good sex to magically collide with me;

My brain gradually accepts and digests my life’s reality;

It’s a string of unknown variables: somehow bound to my own destiny.

What I find in a mirror – won’t let my brain truly perceive;

Along with so many pieces of my own history,

I’m a toddler again without a reason to believe;

My environment feels so profoundly abstract and obscene.

The good and the bad – patches of skin: paisley and plaid;

I spent so many tear drops that I now wish I still had;

To cry over the stabs at my womb and the kicks to my head –

There will be time to be held “hostage” when I’m dead.

Unrealistic, sadistic, chauvinistic lovers –

Sociopathic in the street and Pornographic in the covers

But then again, my position in the dark-lit corner;

Not really caring if you do or do not choose to stroll over –

I survived the same ways as anyone else alive;

I can only convey the things that my spirit and soul imply;

I have accepted the truth and jumped over the side;

welcoming the Unknown through a perfected swan dive.

Deep Blue.

It’s as if a snake,
has slithered its way,
down my esophagus today,

a darkening haze,
spills over my scene,
making static in my periphery,

the noise it makes,
sucking down the drain,
until it’s just an empty bathtub again,

genetically hungry,
a deep desire for your cake,
my tears fill the moments and my belly aches,

bleeding your name,
screaming final resignation,
begging for the warmth of your heavy domination,

body in detached withdrawal,
my heart’s never been this broken before,
and it won’t get better til you come back for more,

nothing else much matters to me,
as trivial as a granule of sand on the beach,
the world stops spinning when you step out of reach,

but, you know these things,
how I only dive this deep into blue,
on the days that follow a night spent with you.

Chicken Skin.

 

Fingers creeping up the tingly, naked ridge,

sweaty-static-electric-high voltage,

tacky surfaces of salted-cream skin,

made of sensations akin to each nerve’s end,

withdrawal, elation, tears and satisfaction,

the uprising rebel’s defeated stupefaction,

hours pass with a thump, pump and groan,

resignation leans into the forceful cyclone,

being carried far out by a mean undertow,

nothingness and everything tied up with a bow.

 

 

Long Night.

Early on,

the night is long,

you trail me,

by a sturdy lead,

unsurprised,

are your eyes,

to perceive,

how readily,

I follow along,

mesmerized,

paralyzed

by your song,

vocalized,

localized,

loud and long,

played steadily,

laid heavily,

heaves and sighs,

the fall and rise,

in ecstasy,

in submission,

across a knee,

white flag waving,

daylight fading,

into the pull,

magnetically,

shamelessly,

make-up smearing,

clothes disappearing,

instantly,

full nudity,

immortalized,

by your tender mind,

and your touch,

leaves me,

crossing my eyes,

seeing flashes of light,

burning,

yearning,

rivers rush deep,

the mouth to the sea,

internalized,

naturally.

 

 

 

Pink Slip.

No comforts resurrected
in the absence of his grip
Fleeting aches
body shakes
I am thoroughly affected
by demands made from his lips
In withdrawal
until nightfall
When I’m finally subjected
to the will of his fingertips
Subservience
Willingness
For the form to be perfected
beneath his gentle dominance
Heavenly Hell
I show and he tells
Only his desires reflected
as coils tighten and knots slip
He’s burning
I’m learning
He has taken over ownership.

Sapling.

What does this woman want?

She wants to be secure,

wants to be assured,

wants to feel beholden,

to bring warmth to the touch of her master;

And, what does the man want?

He wants to greedily admire,

wants to be twice as admired,

wants to burn eternal,

to forever sizzle within at the sight of his object;

The equation seems simple,

closeness shall draw the rest together, in turn,

a man and a woman are natural companions,

the admiration one holds for the other,

is not enough – has never been enough,

will never be enough to purge,

from the spirit of the man,

or from the soul of the woman,

the sapling that lies within the belly of both,

grown from the seed of Lust and Blood,

one, the child of Fear and Jealousy,

the other, born to War and Desire,

now together – now ripped at the seam,

the dark hours are the battleground,

on which we strike our most memorable,

and powerful of blows,

to behold the single rogue,

sweat drop as it defiantly rolls

from your brow down the bridge of your nose

and disappears in the corner of my eye, as usual.

 

Syrupy.

My skin’s sticky,

lips are salty,

licked by curiosity,

piqued to the extreme,

  • so syrupy,

my skin’s on fire

desire is,

a growing thing,

a thickly veiled,

  • necessity,

secret thoughts,

I’m entertaining…

 

come down here

lay next to me,

read from your books,

in the darkness to me,

  • tell me stories,

make me believe

in the God,

we both know you can be,

the line gets taut,

  • now I’m listening,

My Lord, My King,

I’m unworthy…

 

…and, this is the language

in your name, I speak.