It can't be

That I will spend an entire life,
Begging for love,
Confused by anger,
Afraid of frowns,
Eager to blame,
Bored with myself,
And
Waking up dead,

Can it?

There is a luxury
In your naked offer.

A Christianity in your pout and pose,
The promise of a second coming,
Perhaps a third,
If I kneel and praise your tiny lord.

Spread your legs.

I think it and you obey
And you pull your knees up with your palms
To offer me a menu.
A damp hollow inside a moist harbour,
Above a forbidden entrance.

You smooth yourself.
Sample me your smile suggests.
Taste me. Touch me.
Your eyes glisten with,
An addict's anticipation.

The scent inside of you,
Creates an uncontrollable hunger,
Your body is a now a feast and
I envy you.

I kindle, I savour,
Rim the edge your event horizon,
A forbidden temptation
Orbits around the pucker of a black hole,
Before a broad flat tongue
Begins to lick you,
Like a strawberry ice cream cone.

Be as promiscuous as you like I whisper.
Raise your hips to meet my mouth,
Seal the suction of my lips with clitoral precision,
Hold my head with firm soft hands
Then as light as a hummingbird,
I will begin to speak in tongues,
Until a madness descends.

First we learn to survive.

Then we learn to accumulate.

Eventually we consider how to share.

Before we settle and vanish forever.


Life is life. Death is our gift.

Pace yourself.

It was anger,
Nature bitter and ignored,
Until finally a scowl and rage.

A blizzard of infinite pellicles,
Pure white confetti flakes
In a hoard.
The storm attacks me,
A cloud of locust,
In their swarming phase.

I was blind.
Even before the harsh wind,
Slapped me hard across the face,
With an open hand.

There are gentle days,
Summer days,
When the wind is a scent,
Fresh cut grass,
A tired smiling sun droops west,
Soft lips on my barked skin,
Memories of each and every day.

I think of her,
Only when winter grows bold,
Its icy ***** mocks me,
Assaults me
With six foot high drifts
A smooth white finish,
Seals all the land.

The storm buries everything
Hides the summer trails,
Until the deer remember the way
And tip toe towards the river,
Their footprints tentative and light.

Then I think of her.
In winter.
When all seems irretrievably lost.

Then I think of her.

The moment you begin to feel sorry for someone,
Is the exact moment you begin
To under estimate them.

The crow one-eyes me,
Gives me the up and down,

Then stabs at the ground
And harpoons a blue and white,

A tiny caterpillar only seconds old,
A hatch-ling, one minute in the sun,

How brief, how pure,
Life is never over before its begun.

If you cry, no one will see your tears.

If you wail, no one will hear your scream.

If you fear, no one will smell your sweat.

If you pray, no one will listen to your heart.

You are alone.

In a universe of a billion worlds.

You are all alone.