The chills received
From a brushing of lips,
Painting a masterpiece only the artists understand;
From a caress of the cheek,
Causing goose-flesh to creep along limbs.
The enlightenment found
In an impenetrable embrace,
Strong branches of a body
Encasing another's waist.
The desire felt when
The closeness is not close enough;
The lover is too far away,
But the closeness is forbidden,
For that lover is a phantom.
A shadow of a dream.
The half empty space, a void,
As no one wishes to fill it;
As no one wishes to accompany me.

I should not speak of you,
I only talk in poems when I do.
Not the kind I'm proud of,
Or that make a poignant point,
But the sort that make me blush,
And that I burn after I write.

They're a little bit like this one, really,
The poems that come to mind,
Every time I think of you...
Which is all the time.

When you dance with the devil, the devil don't change.

The devil changes you.



-8MM

Gliding over glass
Gently, softly, sweetly
Each movement sets a new one into motion
Each touch
Gently, rockingly, and feelingly
All rolled into one emotion
Fingers glide over the glass
Until it becomes no more.

I sigh in measured time,
  bemuse myself with rhyme.
Of pains I make a parlor play;
  with words I while an hour away.

Leave me to my cliches.
  They comfort me these days.
To shocking shards and blocks of rage,
  I yield the balance of my page.

It does not matter whether god is here or not.


Because we are here.