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Oct 2010 · 902
Frost's Bite
Kelly Liska Oct 2010
I'm out here- barely knowing why
Thump, ooze, cringe, wince
Oh, that's why

I'm coming to with drained, unwilling eyes
Stipped of all guards with inconsiderate abuse
Tied down by angels of nostalgia
Without given a second thought,

I'm left alone with myself
Left defenseless to the wrath of the dark nothing
Each icy lash leaves five internally

Out here- in the dead of winter, the scourging is barely felt
The eternal brand is a thing of beauty
How could something so perfect come to be with no effort, no thought?

At least it will be over soon, right?
This punishment has lasted long enough hasn't it?
Why am I where in the first place? ---
Sep 2010 · 801
Held
Kelly Liska Sep 2010
Down flat on the grass
Sharp blades pressing our weight, but we are so here
Eyes reaching up to the endlessness
Tension flaring from self and meets inbetween
Bouts of heat patching down the skin
Surges travel from head to heart, from heart to shoulder to elbow to palm to finguretips
The soft release of rising up and guiding down to the inbetween
-contact-
The longing is over in a whispered touch
On real skin, fingures gliding up to wrist, down to elbow
Lingering, then back past wrist
Curious familiarity; past the lines of life, death, fate, and love
Interlocked desperation reinforced by cadency
Sep 2010 · 620
Once Again
Kelly Liska Sep 2010
The silence sets in
After a day of nerves and preparation
After the trip filled with loud music and shaky voices
The silence sets in
After the sweat turns clothes damp
After the dressed become harnesses of body and mind
The desirous chills die down and strong ones come to play
This is before the silence really sets in
After the short seperation creating burning sparks in the night air
This naughty lust breaks upon arrival, reunion is sweet never bitter
Nausea unyielding, the silence has begun
Voices rise and fall
Raw conversation leaves an awkward aftertaste
A solem realization that a good time is being had
Over at the eleventh hour, progress slow but promising
The point of contact is the center of the world, like a shared halo glowing insanely
Nausea is, as it always had been, pride and confidence and splender
Lasting until the silence, permeated with uncertainty and starving passion, sets in again

— The End —