The Braids

Summer Solstice began this ritual of me and you
I sit quietly on the edge of the bed
My long black hair separates in wet strands
The heat raises suffocating reason
Slowly I fold you into my hair
Twist and turn
Closing you in the narrow of this thought
Making a weapon for you later
My movement andante
The throb between the legs hardens
With the meditation of you
It is mid-day afternoon
Climbing upon your tight sheet in trance
His door is closed for the day
Mine left open
My body making a dent
I pull my hair
Remembering your loyalties
Wrap my tangle in your drunken whisper
Sweat builds and I fall over in you
Touching myself
Where only I can reach and you warm
From a distance

Possum

You were my poison of choice
I would expand myself to feel your force and friction
Play dead on the creaking floor
With a leaking smile
Rug burn on the back of the thighs

"Doesn't it feel good to be bad?" he says
"Yes" I say under a thrusted whisper
He repeats himself
Taking over the masturbation
Passengers side

"Doesn't it feel good to be bad?"
I don't reply as my cheek pushes up and down
Against the window

The lips parted
Breath shortened
Hands between the steering wheel
Thumbs forcing from both sides
As I fold into the wave of a rapists sandwich

Long Distance

Proof

Lately I have been craving women like once a month chocolate but everyday.
I must admit though the thought of having you all in me reminds me that
nothing compares to cock in the mouth. Don't mean to be dirty...
but it's true.

Frontal Buttons

The arrangement was made on the telephone
By a friend of a friend of a friend
Her voice was displaced and full of neglect
When she showed up at my door
Her head hung with fear and excitement
Dressed tight
Black stockings
Black dress with frontal buttons
Hair up in a tossed bun
Like death warmed over with anticipation
She hands me the envelope of money and smiles
Liberation like ice
Awaits her in my room in 5 minutes
With no deliberation
The fingers take over
Under the surface of her skin
Thumbing her buttons and pressing deep
Manipulating pleasure for compensation

Untitled Submissions 3

Untitled Submissions 4

Krishnamurti (((Art 01.)))

Something I like from the amazing Mike Giant.
www.mikegiant.com

For My German Girlfriend

Even Whores Get The Blues Pt. 2

A Scene From Our Notebook

I have come to accept that I will never have you
like a cup of everyday morning coffee.
What I do have I shove deep down
into the depths of me.
On occasions I read your letters
I imagined you touching me
as I lay crumbling your paper and ink strokes
making fists out of loving frustrations
pressing the ball of paper between my legs
As this hard paper crease
replacing the lasting feel of you
is the closest I will ever get to having you

Languid Temptation

The most emphatic sensation
Finds my desires tipped over by the bedside table
on the floor
Next to the spilt milk and water of me
Dried up emulsions
To peel that layer of me would take more then words
More then effort built up on the window screen

The heat rises all around me
Nothing but cool tugs tempt me from the inside
Overt possibilities rejected
Licks of the palm inspected with chalk dust

Your sweltering blue winds always took me somewhere
Out of reach
Top shelf
Left corner next to inspirations fist