We are the hunted
the hated
who run in packs
separate but equal
rarely together
but with similar purpose
a singular goal
to make it
through life

We are despised
for our existence
Some are fat, yet starved
Others are slutty and ravenous
Every day is a struggle
We **** and feast
fight and pray
and too often
we lose

Love is fleeting
never predictable
It's the knowledge, you see
We are but temporary
lovers, workers, friends
That truth brings about
the sadness
the madness
the end

I've been studying your body language,
the way your knees shake,
when I touch you.
the way your eyes fill with intensity,
when I look at you.
The way you bite your lip,
I can tell that you want me to kiss you,
very hard,
very long,
very fierce.

Just an instant
twixt breath
and death.

In that living
blink-blink
let us lie
eye to eye

(moan to moan,
groan to groan)

so when we go
we will heart
happy know:

we were never,
not once,
not ever, alone.

Our bodies
demand pleasure
to dispell fear.

We work hard
to keep death
at bay.

Every ******
says to death:

I am still here
and ****
I feel good.

  ~mce

When the Past is dead,
the Present disappointing
and the Future short.
When everything is so fragile
that a breath could break you.
Where better could you be?

  ~mce

I stopped being scared of the lights turned off,
the night underneath my bed
when I understood that there is a bigger dark within me.

You must believe that you
can escape the prison
of your present.

The innocent future is available
if you empty your memory
and enter the fire that calls you.

You must believe there
is an angelic ****
you can **** that will
rekindle your virginity
and make you pure once more
in this deadly profane world.

You must imagine living
far from the prison of now
in a small house surrounded
by flowers and possibilities;
a small house that can become a home
despite the dreary lovers
buried in the flesh of your past.

What were they anyway but
mistaken barbarian shafts
upon which you impaled yourself
because you longed for love
but discovered only six inches
of throbbing, indifferent muscle
spurting urgent, burning seed
for their own pleasure?

When you never came did you think
you were being denied for settling,
for promiscuously accepting the
futility of their grunting flesh?

You must learn to **** the spirit,
not just magazine bodies and faces.

You must realise you
are ******* for your very being.

This is hardly about mere lust.

****** alone cannot possibly
solve the riddles of existence.

You must open your legs wide
once more to the ******* of hope.

You must know that it is possible
to escape the prison of the present
and emerge like a spring blossom
into the hands of a holy future
if only you let its fingers
pleasure you to ripe perfection,
if only you allow its swollen *****
to ****** deeply enough
to nourish your heart
with its steaming, sticky sanctity.

Meat and soul must finally conjoin
and in their junction innocence
will find and carry you triumphantly
like a chaste bride to the home you seek.

   ~mce