Kink.

Americana Injustica

Eyes, locked that never leave my thighs, as I pass by –

parade-rested – ideas nested deeply in your mind;

let stand: up your man, hands down, at your sides;

don’t feel shy – or try to hide –

let those savage instincts over-ride;

Hold, molten to your soul in solid gold, the coveted prize –

cradled tightly – carried brightly by the iris of your eye;

follow me: into Ecstasy, and let your body be satisfied;

don’t act blind – let me ease your mind –

just undress and find your way inside;

Sweat, drips salty-wet, drop erotic tears, in my eyes –

legs shaking – an undertaking of the most pleasant type;

climax; then relax, let your wind fill the skies;

you can unwind – this suits us both fine –

forget the details you’ve been scratching to find;

Time, passes along before I am gone into the…

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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.

 

 

 

Sing-Song.

Confined by a desirous thing,

the inside of a tiny boxing ring,

minus the hollering referee,

in my corner to guide me to victory;

your voice leaves me wanting to sing,

your face just leaves me wanting,

to taste your kisses subserviently,

to undress you each night of week,

to take all of you into me,

and keep the secret of your poetry,

forever pulsing in my veins,

like a tissue to dab my tears away,

please just continue to read to me,

forever and without ever leaving.

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.

Dumbly Mused.

My mind reeled sinfully as my gaze found its lazy way upon,

your eyes drilled into me through the haze of shady recognition,

how the shadowy cobwebs of distant times,

have smeared many edges and blurred out the lines,

but the instant I saw you,

and knew you saw me too,

the moment I bowed my head in gratitude,

it seemed a flash of lightning,

something jarring and striking,

took my knees from under me,

so I dumbly mused hungrily,

on distant things resurfacing in plenitude,

an emotionally messy,

however, very sexy catastrophe,

was the spark of fire ignited by memory,

was the bolt of energy flashing between,

in its own way defining the physical being,

in that instant recollection,

of that distant connection,

when our bodies intertwined nakedly,

and our times were confined to history,

while our eyes were still quite blind,

and we couldn’t hear a thing,

the sense of touch,

was left to us,

the warm rush of skin in flannel sheets,

and in that moment,

so long later down the line,

our eyes got to touch one last time,

I touched yours,

yours touched mine,

and you remembered me.

 

Pushing Buttons.

What…?
You honestly thought,
that my DNA forgot,
the dealer of
such a lethal drug?
When you’ve
got me tethered,
weathered and wrought;
and you’ve
got me pleasured,
treasure the thought;
What…?
say you didn’t mean,
to imply anything,
through the carelessness,
of your pretentiousness,
When you’ve
got me all twisted,
insistent on foolishness;
and you’ve
still persisted,
pushing buttons like this.

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.