So I may drown in this amorous affair,
Savoring the delicious taste,
Of your lips against my own.
Your arms clasped around,
My petite body,
Skin touching skin,
Finding warmth in your blanket,
Of security and adoration,
Burrowing into the flowing fabric,
Of your embrace.
Never let me go,
I yearn to hear the inhales,
And exhales of your breath;
You glance at me,
Chuckling in delight,
As your thoughts turn,
To how enchanting you view me to be.
Allowing your firm hands to explore,
The slight curves,
Of a soft feminine exterior,
Yearning for the stroke,
Of your fingertips upon me.
Does love not knock upon the door,
Of your innermost chamber?!
Silence your scattered thoughts,
Allowing you to hear,
The lulling seductive melody,
Depicting the presence of Eros,
In the heat of the night.
I shall pray you stay,
With fingers tightly interlacing,
For the fates bestow us,
With a blessing,
Perhaps a curse,
Receiving a bond to unite us.
An illicit connection,
In the eyes of others,
Yet I behold my desire,
For you as a dragonfly,
Mysterious and ancient,
A beautiful creature,
Existing almost as long,
As the sands of time,
Flying among the earth,
To be free.
Breathe me in,
Granting me the chance,
To enter your body,
Mind and soul,
Engrossing our spirits,
To complete the other,
Through gazing into,
The eyes of the other.
As our lips encounter,
As they collide in portrayal,
Of our irrevocable love,
As the Riesling rests,
Within my wine glass,
Tempting me to consume,
Pleasure through the delicious taste,
Awaiting for me.
Reminding me of the same reasons,
I crave you,
the sun is slowly pushing itself
back into my wintery ecosystem.
the trees stand nude
and forsaken, in limbo-
waiting for an equinox
of ethereal proportions.
I've started a collection of
seeds and bulbs in my
cockamamie colonial house.
I've been dreaming of flowers,
you see; fields of primroses
and foxglove, bleeding hearts
and wild orchids.
it's a change of heart,
I suppose. I suddenly find myself
embracing the great blistering sun
rather than shutting the curtains
and hiding my eyes away.
I find myself out stretching
my arms to absorb
the tantalizingly delicious warmth.
maybe it's only a change of seasons,
but I feel as though
I am rising from the ashes
in a season of decay,
fuck logistics, I think
I might even dare to call it
Dark were the days immediately prior to my rebirth.
It was at this peculiar time that I realized the potential of endless thought and kicks.
The strain of giving and taking and finding the time to be free within our minds.
Drink from the actions of others, and your reactions to things that may not be there at all.
And with this creation spirals.
Endless circles and boxes. To abandon expectation is to be free.
And to realize the notion that creation and trailing inspiration is free and easy and limited only to what we have not yet perceived for references sake.
I would rather live in pain than not live.
From each rebirth, this is what will save me.
Reaching out for the time when love was not such a filthy word.
And when cities were undauntingly small.
I am not so saintly as to resist habit.
I have the same fantasies again and again.
This wine tastes like bile but I continue to drink.
And here I must face the sad realities.
The two great monsters and the ends of this town lay dormant, but present, and stare each other down.
We can exist above this charade within an insular dimension.
Blinkers on. Hats off to us.
From each rebirth, this is what will save me.
A rare moment of absolute clarity, although I do not know the cause.
Is it escape from fear? Or the complete realization of my fear of death?
But its liberating.
A vision of all of the things that I could achieve.
Its not dark.
Its blinding light.
I plan to exist inside this.
And from each rebirth, this is what will save me now.
Feverish were the days before I lost it completely.
I strive to surprise.
I could never have imagined a reaction so pleasant and so true, however confrontation never did suit.
On the edge of a precipice, and a dark one at that.
The uncertainty concerning my own actions is tantalizingly distressing.
Maybe I'll go.
In this rebirth,, I've lost what would once have saved me.
And so they're leaving me behind.
But who knew we could go so long without sleep.
And this insular spectrum is a quagmire of guilt and filth, Population One.
So maybe I'll fall.
And ultimately, typically, drown.
Exactly like the specter that occupies my nightmares.
It was at this time that I realized perhaps I did not require solace.
From each twist of the spirit.
From each crisis.
From each glimpse into the face of the supernatural presence.
From each destruction and from each rebirth.
I do not wish to be saved.
Onward with a maverick as acting muse.
A Brave New World.
A brave new identity.
We drank poison for breakfast again.
It's the sound of the Bell's and feedback from before we were born.
After much argument, we arrive together.
As a single insecure unit.
A giant trembling insect.
And we both wonder if our voyage into the strangely familiar was worth our energies.
And this was the fate that received me.
I asked for revolution.
I received only murmurs.
I often wish I were a caricature.
So I drink up like a bitch and call myself vain.
And now I feel like death cooled down.
It's rickety and transitional.
I need escape and asylum.
I Must Not Turn Around.
This state of flux is torture and consumption.
I will listen to the same sounds over and over.
Becoming completely self absorbed.
I wonder if I'll always remain the same.
Or if I'll substitute.
For once, a new universe.
There is only superficial light.
Mere crackles and cackles outside.
It was at this time that I came upon the realization that I am identical.
I could not tell one pig from another.
So I shuffle back behind the screen.
It's safe here, for now.
Concealed by distraction.
Keep the screaming child at bay.
I collapsed on the bridge.
Four walls are stormed.
The absurdity of changing colour and the god-like relevance of this was like an electrode to the brain.
For a while we sat still.
It was at this time that I chose the most difficult avenue.
From this rebirth I'm putting myself in the hands of another. This will not save me.
I'm struggling, I'm scared, and I'm sorry.
If I expose myself, if I stick out my tongue would you do the same?
I am quite prepared to gaze into the eyes of the monstrous spider.
And accept one world over another.
Its the clambering back and forth I cant stand.
An ascent into Purgatory,
And finally, perhaps, Madness.
You know when you're missing someone that's far away?
Well, with you, it's that same kind of thing...
Only you're tantalizingly close.
Two long and narrow roads branched off
in the middle of a thick dense forest
and I desired to walk and travel both.
Being one sole entity so earnest
but a believer in the concept of duality
I gazed on them as far as I could behold
to where they vanished into infinity.
I looked at one of that which did branch
It did appear barren; more dry, desolate
and looked lonelier than the other
which was much more fertile and green
and appeared more frequently used.
The road that was surrounded by green
on both sides was well worn
and had inns and motels to rest on
with smiling and beckoning irresistible women
with wine and gourmet both tantalizingly sublime.
The wicked and evil side within me
decided to set out on the journey and travel
on the outwardly green and beaten path,
while the sweet good angel within me
did not bother to opt or chose
the dry and desolate road of good
For the good within me,
the road did not matter; nor the lack of food
It was only the way or the intent so to say
With which one traveled that did.
While the bad within me
was attracted by the sights and the lights
as well as sounds of the evil road.
I was curious to find out and come to know
the destinations of the winding road
and decided to share my entire time
between traveling with the bad
side of me and the good
side of me; both equally shared.
I decided not to be biased
or judgmental about either
of my two sides.
I decided to share my life
equally with both the sides of me.
I then called upon my good
and bad side and asked them
with whom I should travel first.
While the bad wanted me
to start the journey with him,
the good couldn’t care less
and was the least bit bothered.
Perceiving my dilemma
the good told me, “my friend and master,
you will need youth on your side
if you are to bear the rigor
and hardships of the road
that has been provided
for you to experience the journey”.
But the bad would not
accept his argument.
The bad wanted me
to give it a chance
to first satisfy itself fully
and since the good
was not too particular
I allowed myself
to be swayed by the bad.
Now I am beaten and worn
And I have learn’t the perils of the bad
I’m so tired and my muscles are torn
It really makes me so sad
That I didn’t give the good road the chance
It deserved to be my priority
I just wanted a dirty dance
And pamper all of my vanity.
Now though I wish to walk the road of goodness
I find that am physically weary and unfit
I have become so used to the luxury of the badness
That for the road of goodness I’m now a misfit
While the good side of me
Contemptuously says, “I told you so”
For the bad has managed to not let me be
And now its time to leave my body and go…
i remember the slow down
the instant of undesirability
didn't dare want him coming near me
praying for his rush to subside
though i never looked to become Sarah and deliver him to my handmaiden
rather that he'd remain
but in my bed all the same
now i seek him out
it's like my hormones have changed
and i call to him
requesting his blessing
even now that he would come minister to me
i woo him with my scent
awaiting the moment he'll grip me at my hips
and blow in
to probe and to penetrate
with more than my core
and he'll never experience these waters running dry
only them running.
I think I’ll get away somewhere today
Somewhere I can stomp barefoot
Whistle tunes from treetops
Live off dew and nectar
Drink the sunlight
I think I’ll do it au naturale
Let the foliage hide me
I’ll ebb and flow
Then inquire the clouds
Who have seen it all
(They must be wise those clouds)
I think I’ll go someplace where there isn’t a man-made thing in sight
Somewhere the creatures
Seem to truly understand the meaning
Of it all
(There has to be a meaning right?)
I’ll loose track of time
Notice how long it takes for the sun to set there
(Had it always been this way?)
I’ll walk through that place dreamily
For an intangible amount of time
For something I know
It has hidden tantalizingly beyond every bend
Because this effortless utopia
Of heavenly secrets
Must have answers right?
(Even if the answer is nothing)
i'd like to rip out a chunk of each of you
tantalizingly slow, i'll dig my dirt crusted finger tips into your flesh
never breaking eye contact as one after the other
you squirm and beg for mercy
i'll take needles, thick and crusted with rust,
and piece together a patchwork of my broken hearts
watch as all of the things i miss most become one
i'll stare at my conglomerate of lovers and will
find myself swooning the way i often do over all of you,
only this time i won't fear the cavernous plunge to come
how could the most beautiful pieces of all the
men i've ever loved scorn me?
i'll just have to put up with the stench of decomposition
Hair like chocolate,
Skin like caramel,
Eyes like almonds,
Lips like oranges,
Voice like meringue,
Your gaze and kiss and sound
make belly-butterflies wing around!
© 2012 Matthew Bridgham
The sleek, oh-so-smooth lines of a goddess in the flesh.
Eyes wrapped, concealed, the long hair tied back.
The lobe of one perfect ear, barely visible. Pointing
down to the slender neck, tilted slightly,
as if in anticipation of the touch or kiss,
many who view her, long to place upon that neck.
Beautiful round shoulders forcibly squared,
pulled slightly back. With one arm, the right one,
draped down, to cover her modesty.
Small but lively breasts, exposed, displayed,
pushed forward by the arched back,
the binding ropes.
Twin, nearly perfect buttocks,
similarly displayed, although tantalizingly,
partially concealed by the long flowing cloth of her robe.
Held through one sleeve, on one arm, the left one,
and cascading down her thigh,
to pool down to her small,
unexpectedly, poorly carved feet.
And carved into the flowing base, formed
by the swirl of her robe, we find
the signature of the sculptor: