Don't think I'll go on, but I can
my mother is kicking me out
and I've never had a plan.
Fizzled out with your opening
crushed like a soda pop can
so insecure, pushed you away
because you know just who I am.

On such a breathless downward spiral
and I think I'll stay here a while.
baggy shirts and sunken eyes
has become my style.
I'm a muddled, mangy mess, no surprise
I think I'll just stay a child
be soft in my stride
for just a little while
until I learn to get by.

**** Mucus

The alternative man liked an **** massage

Getting his sphincter muscle lovingly relaxed

This allowed his **** mucus to flow with love

Every time he took a dump in the royal throne room

Pushing a curly big **** with S turns in it out

Plopping into the bowl like a fish back in a pond

The masseur did the best **** massage

It was only money and it all got soothed

Green enjoying his ******* massage

Making sure he produced mucus to ****

That and regular sphincter muscle work outs

With a ******* ***** and American *******

Can I ask for a little more action,
with out really asking
Sounds a bit passive, so I try to
ask in a past tense
And this time around really *****,
so turn around so I can pass the time
******* on your front

"Okay," that last line was kind of dull,
and no excuse for me being so blunt
But could I still ***** a little thought,
and plant a bit of that seed, and see how that story grows,
And take you on a tasty journey; you'll be my main course

"*******," wait no, it's actually a golf course;
looking for a perfect stroke to get it into that hole
My little birdie; let's play, as we pave our way
into a concrete conversation before we go

Lead the way, and I'll chase your ideas like a plan in motion
Press into you, to prove yourself in an interview,
and I'm the one doing all of the reporting
As they say love can sometimes feel like it's getting old,
but I'm sorry, that's still old news to me

So we could chain each other up, but you're free
to do whatever you want to me
I'll be your memory form bed,
and remember all of the best positions
And you could leave the rest to me, and if I did it wrong,
you wouldn't waste your time to lie to me

I know, every expression of your feelings; reading
your body language- as you're my beautiful love poem
And in a spoken word of desire; what's there more of me
to say; to any kind of performance leaving a bang,
Let's make a little slam poetry

It's in this next stanza, I'll tell you of how
I'll dig into you; and thankfully it won't get so boring
As I'm feeling like a power tool, drilling a little pleasure,
to an eventual release, and to ease off the day's pressure

I turn you on; no not as a light, but let me see the light
in your eyes, taken so lightly by other guys
They couldn't see that glorious sight, that acts so bright,
a movie star, as all of the stars start to align tonight

"I'll give it to you straight,"
put a little heavy ecstasy, as you had so long wait
Put this love in a few shreds; a few times I had to grate,
yet it somehow ends up so **** great
I'm just trying to score, and if it feels extra great,
feel free to rate

I just need a place to begin, and the final
destination is how you and I will feel at the very end.

I love everything about you. I love your smell, from the way your cologne and deodorant sticks to your freshly washed skin to the way your natural musk smells when you sweat through a hot summer night stuck to me. I love how your skin is always soft, it brushes up against my thighs and cheeks like a blanket of the highest quality. Your voice is deep, but comforting and I adore all the sounds your body makes, especially the little grunts and sighs. When you speak soft words in my ear, I just melt into soft butter and I even love the way your silly words tease me, even when I get upset. Your bone structure is manly, but in a way that your body wraps around mine ideally when we hug. The way your eyes sparkle in the sunshine is like fairy dust and I could get lost in your gaze forever.
Your hand fits into mine perfectly and your tongue twists perfectly with mine when our lips collide. The movement of your hips with mine is like a metronome to my heart. All you could do is sleep and eat and I would never get tired of watching you. If you were a colour, you would be your favourite, purple, because it represents devotion, pride, mystery, magic and nobility. If you were a smell, it would be freshly cut grass on an early summer morning. Most people would say love feels like a sunny summer day, but ours is like one of those spring days where the temperature is fit for flowy dresses, but the sky is filled with some dark clouds that pass in the evening and there is a slight warm wind breezing through everyone's hair. Every single evening when you tell me you love me over the phone my stomach flutters with butterflies. As an item, you would be my favourite comfy old sweater. I love every single imperfection on your skin and in your soul. If I were to describe hanging out and having fun with you, the closest thing I could compare it to is the first bite of a freshly baked warm cinnamon pastry. I used to hate the idea of life, but if we were to create a family I would actually want to grow old with you. If there exists a heaven, it would be us sharing a fresh lemonade and chuckling next to a lake where tiny birds chirp and eat the crumbs of the bread we baked together. If you were a drink, you would be high quality whiskey and lastly, if you were a person, you would be mine.

Let me imprint my love with my tongue,
speaking all of the words you've never heard before
And as one who has always experienced writer's block;
it's probably good of me to just go down town
But the streets are always unsafe, especially as a first,
a first for me, of saying less, but still doing more actions with
a mouth,

Knowing myself, I could start preparing before in a month,
as I know it all couldn't amount to much
Making a two plan meal out of you; always skipping brunch,
and would you come- to a place I should take you to
Or does it take a few more seconds of a numbing jawline,
to make you in the end feel so really good,

I never could, prove all my experience,
cos experience isn't all I have, at hand
So please don't get mad, if you find me looking up
to read your lips of what you feel at your lower lips;-
                                                   please do understand!

And would you accept me, feeling a bit down under
to go a little down under
Playing a little too much repetition, with a mouth stutter;
this person who is a newcomer, hoping you're a quick comer
Calling me out when I start feeling lost;
hoping by any chance I do have the right number,
And not to get too distracted by a hard wood, of my pants lumber,

                                                Let's see how this goes...

Everyone hopes their dreams to become real,
But this girl’s aspiration to reach her goals is surreal.

With eyes full of ambition and will to do anything with zeal,
She started the journey with all support and unreal.

Mankind said her desired was a waste of time,
And longing for an ordinary life was not a crime.

She stayed true to her intentions,
Although the time-line was yearning for irritations.

The girl has finally reached her destination,
With a lot of claps and appreciation.

Wishes and struggles are part of being alive,
But a beautiful life is what your actions drive.

And suddenly, as if waking from a child's dream,
I am thrown into reality,
not awoken softly by my mother's warmth
but startled and bewildered to find her not there.
I exit the hazy surrealness of midnight rendezvous,
and the disillusionment snakes its way around my heart.
As if struggling to find my breath or finding myself alone,
I am starkly confronted yet again with my naiveté.
I am transformed into that little girl who trusted so easily,
and now, it is not just disappointment but also shame
that, like a vapor, evades every corner of my being.
To have believed in a dream and my own competence,
I am still that foolish little girl who never learned.
Perhaps, the worst part of gullibility is the knowledge
that the fool and the fooled will always be you.

Feelings of ecstasy
fills up an empty lonely room,
His words, "I want to fill/feel myself in you"

Intimacy; into admitting those desires not of public ear
A request to touch her as if it were their very last;
a sort of lust rush, as he pulls her near

And from the sight of red eyes, a few hours
before, when they had passionately cried
Falling into sight; a blush picture of her
cheeks painted in cherry red
Giving into their feelings; all unquestioned
reasons to be sharing a bed,—

Tonight,
could be a long night of bodies being next
to each other, making up tomorrow's memory
And if it hurts to bite, her response,
"nothing hurts better of what pleasures me"

...mmmh, it's all but basic reality,
yet feels so much like a fantasy
Playing into future events in their heads
of a present affair. A make up type of ***
to forget about old history

                                 Awaiting their ******.

roaring beast. steam obsolete. i wish my hands. to see them fall apart. crackling dry. the crust in my eyes. moon oh please, let me be free, from this ******* heat 80 degrees. i thought i had grown, but it’s just the moss on the stone. my heart no longer beats with the rain. i just stay inside all day.

i look
her
in
the eyes
i see
no
reflection
i miss
the girl
i
used
to be

and if this is adult life
it would’ve been better to die
at seventeen

the secret slip of underwear
he was caught off guard; unaware
widened mouth and could only stare
gazing at her pond of ten thousand sounds,
how easy could it be,— a bit too fishy
knowing he wasn't the first to go skipping a
few rocks

but as a rock in a hard place
between a devilishly charming smile on her face,
she was, "a good friend's friend"
and he thought that made them "just friends"

and not one to play cliches
"i don't want this," he made it as clear to say
in that room at night, he wasn't interested in her,
and it was clear as day

he came only to help pen down a study report
but perhaps the con of hoping there'd be much
concentrate; were the first letters
written by her, wanting to spill ink in a little *******

                        click!

that idea was well tucked away and hidden,
like the tip of his favourite silver pen.