You'd make a really nice submissive.
Oh, I can only imagine. You being blind folded & *******. Thoroughly depending on your senses to guide you.
To calm you.
As a feeling of adventure and potential danger lurks inside of you. You feel sinfully tempted. You feel bad.
You want to taste blood.
But you'd be willing to give into it. No?
Let yourself be dominated.
For the night. For the other. For oneself. For the moment. For the sin.
Think.
Not knowing where he would touch you.
What part of you will be blessed first?
Where would he settle and take refuge?
And until so you would eagerly wait for his gentle, soft and devilish touch upon your skin to devour you.
You would wait. Wouldn't you?

Namumugto aking mga mata hindi dahil pina-iyak o naluluha ako
Namumugto aking mga mata dahil napuyat ako
Napuyat ako dahil sayo
Napuyat ako dahil kausap kita hanggang mag umaga
Napuyat ako dahil gusto ko marinig yung boses mo sa telepono
Napuyat ako kasi hinintay kita matulog
Matulog....
Natulog...
Tinulugan mo ako.
Tinulugan mo ako na parang pag-ibig mo
Na para bang biglang nawala habang kausap ko sa telepono
Pinatay mo ang cellphone mo
Parang pag patay mo sa puso ko dahil ayaw mo ng estorbo.
Yung mga araw na napuyat ako at akala ko ikaw ay natulog nagkakamali pala ako. Hindi ka pala tunay na nakatulog. May kausap ka lang pala na iba sa telepono.
Nag puyat ako para sayo pero sinayang mo ang oras ko

My lust, my thirst,
Day by day happen to increase,
But the truth is it darling,
That my life till date has been cease (d)

Punk lips in perpetual paralysis,
and they're too afraid to let them kiss.
Too afraid to try to let it last
because of the blurs in their past.

I think the kids are in trouble.
Hanging out with temporary people;
making the wrong times never stop.
Smoking dreams with glass lovers
to indie sonnets and neon power pop.

The world knows they can pretend,
and it's their hearts they can't defend
from the illusion of what they could be,
and the loneliness of what they'll never see.

They skate the pavement until the sun sits,
and drink ***** from water bottles until their hurt slurs.
It's the preparation of tomorrow and what it may not bring
that makes every moment before, everything.

They're scared because it's real,
and I'm scared because they're scared.

Let me be frank.
For once this poem is not about you.
It's about me.  

I was born nine days late
& I've been trying to make up for lost time ever since.
But I've never felt the need to rush
anything
or anywhere—or anyone.
I went through more band-aids than Barbies growing up
& I used to love to climb trees—
until I fell out of one.
I've got about seventeen different favorite colors
including cerulean, yellow ochre, & ******’s green—
They all exist, I swear.
I used to stock oil paints in the college bookstore.
I think I told you that before, right?

Crap.
Me.
This poem is about me.

I knew I wanted to write every since my
stubby, five-year old fingers
punched the keys on my mom’s old college typewriter.
I would take naps beside it, listening to the hums & whirrs
of that beautiful blue machine.
I think I've been in a dreamy state of mind ever since.
I’m almost positive it's stunted my growth.
I've never been taller than 5’3”—
but I like that my feet never touch the floor
when we sit in restaurant booths.
& I like that my head falls on your heart
whenever I hug you.
I try so hard to hear your heart murmur—
though I can never seem to find it.

****.

Swedish Fish are my kryptonite,
& love sinking my teeth into fresh cantaloupe.
I enjoy slowly peeling the labels off of my beer bottles.
Some say that means I’m sexually frustrated.
I don’t really buy it.
I say I just like to constantly be doing something
with my little hands.
I’m happiest when I’m in the water & when I’m singing—
which makes my shower one of my favorite places
in the world.

I used to be a sucker for drummers,
before I was a sucker for guitarists.
Now I’m just a sucker for anything
with a sense of humor & good high five.
I’m good at picking out people’s quirks
& putting them into words.
I observe more than I speak—
& sometimes, I think that bothers you.
You know me— you can tell
that I’m not divulging the entirety of my thoughts.

**** it.

I have to see the ocean every year
& marvel its size—
if only to remind me how small my problems really are.
It's painstakingly obvious that I'm a Scorpio
& I don't necessarily think that's a good thing,
but I try to own it as best as I can.
I love the smell of extinguished candles, warm lighting,
& adding the “and many more” every time I sing “Happy Birthday.”

I like a lot of things.
I am a lot of things.
I can do a lot of things—
like sing all fifty states in alphabetical order,
make roses out of paper napkins,
& play “Oh Susanna” flawlessly on my harmonica.

But one thing I can't do lately—
one thing I have clearly failed to do on the whole
is write anything
without a piece of you in it.

When all my goals and wishes have run out

and all that matters are yours and only yours...


I want you to feel good about yourself

Each time you fall, each time you feel any regret
...


Goodness, so help me...