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I had a dream last night. You were in it.
I can't remember exactly what happened
or what we did. All I can remember
is that we were happy. Together.
You and me. But when, I woke
up, I knew that this dream
I just dreamt was only
the first of many
Nightmares
I've never dreamt about us, but last night I did.
If i was her lover
I would have poetic *** in the ocean
reciting poetry to her
while I **** her
mindlessly

If i was her lover
She would be the mermaid of the ocean
Whom I am jealous to touch
and while I am here wading
wanting to make sweet love with its bride

If only I was her lover
I would whisper passions in her ear
like waves whispering on the shores
of her children

The water of the sea, he chokes me
surrounds me
but i am having poetic *** in the sea
with she

and i say to her, my lover
"i met a mermaid out in the sea
she came to me and poetic *** she needs
i grabbed her heart
and laid inside her
see i'm still a man who wants pleasure
and poetry together
i'm jealous of her lover
yet i'm having poetic *** with her
in the ocean"

My love moans
groans
let's me own
her majestic bones
and her ravaged soul
is radiating
with every ******
beckoning passion
in this historic sensation
so intense
so loud
so real and unreal

and in her throes i hear
water logging in my ear
this moment here
of me ******* my lover
in the sea
i guess that's why they call it
******* poetry.
A girl and I were having an engaging conversation about running in the woods and diving into the nearby lake. She says she would run naked in the woods; it will be easier for her to win the race that way(i think that's cheating)
and so i got big ***** and i imagined how it would be, to scream poetry out in the sea, while having amazing *** with her.
so this is the baby of a *****.
 Aug 2014 Olivia McCann
Felicia C
hazelnut coffee cup
cotton button down
hem my skirt
hem my thoughts about your hands
your belt left bruises
your teeth leave marks
your eyes leave me without
July 2013
 Aug 2014 Olivia McCann
Xan Abyss
All I want to do to you
Is make you feel alive
All I want to give you is a reason to survive
All you seem to ask of me is derision
Hate and scorn
I don't want you to hate yourself just to be my little *****

You're giving me dead love
You're giving me cold ***
Romantic as a cadaver covered in dirt and sweat
You give me dead love
You give me cold ***
Beautiful as a suicide victim giving in to death

All I try to fill you with is passion, burning bright
And yet your eyes stay darker than a silent, moonless night
All you seem to need of me is abuse
And carnal war
I can't stand to hurt you
But I need a little more
***
The most awkward five minutes of my life.
***
Making love,
a sweaty pit stop
between the sheets.
Politicians,
librarians,
directors,
janitors,
authors,
qu­eens,
kings,
moms,
you,
me,
All guilty of this bittersweet act of sticky significance.
All willing to tangle our limbs every night.
I tend to get stares... Looks... The occasional "are you gay?" With a quizzical look of disgust.
Well, to answer your question, no, I am not gay.
In a society built around judgment and stilted above common sense,
Being gay would mean that I'd have to find women utterly disgusting, flick my wrists, speak with funny and awkward inflections, right?
Do you think I speak with funny and awkward inflections?
Good! Because I'm so not gay.
Being gay would mean that I love to shop, well I hate it!
My fashion sense does not exceed that of a box of colorful crayola crayons melting away in the blistering Las Vegas sun because you see, I don't live in San Francisco, or New York,
or anywhere "gay" people live.
I am not gay.
Being gay would mean that I am immoral but I can assure you, moralistically speaking, that morals are what keep me routinely from listening to Lady Gaga, who I've heard, despite her catholic upbringing, is a devout devil worshiper and I sure as hell don't worship Satan!
Oh no, I am not gay.
My father once told me, in his manliest tone that if I ever became sweet
or my tank profusely filled with sugar
that he'd disown me and rid me of his home.
However last time I checked,
I don't have a tank
and one lick of my tanned brown skin would reveal that I am in fact quite salty!
Salty, as defined by Urban Dictionary, means to be ******.
Bitter. Angry.
Well father, there aint nothing sweet about my wrath.
I'm infuriated.
I'm angry not because I'm not able to fulfill the holistic criterion society has built in order to be gay,
No, I am more upset that there is actually a set of rules dictating whether or not someone is gay.
Now listen to me when I tell you,
I am not gay
I am not gay because I have yet to inject myself of substances with an unsterile needle for all purposes of getting high.
No, I have yet to discover my last ****** partner was diagnosed with *** and that I may very well have the virus.
No, I have yet to interiorly decorate my bedroom with the warm crimson fluid that is my blood because some punk at school thought it was cute to label me a queer.
I have yet to be gay because being gay in today's society means I am reckless. I am promiscuous. I am a *******.
Well, guess what society,
I am not gay.
I am, in fact, a man, who is not your personal show dog for your fashion approval that you can tote around in some cute Gucci bag.
I am a man, who can still appreciate the beautiful magnificence that is a curve when he sees one no matter the person's gender.
I am a man who, despite what you may be expecting,
is a man who, no matter how hard you try to box me in a confined image,
is a man who, will fight to freely be in love with who he wants to be in love with,
who is a man who is not gay
but a man who loves men.
I am not gay.
..
Totally gay.
gay
The English vice,
Some Etonian curse –
Set down in grass
And purple verse,

Lavatory bred
With ransacked blood,
Skin slapping and
With a falling thud –

Takes boys at childhood,
Wishes them away,
With promises of popper fuelled buffets,

And poisons them with
Vice and virus red,
And sees them unmarried
Giving head.

I don’t regret a single thing I am,
I’ve tried it out
And can’t abide the sham –

I’ll **** men
And make them beg for more,
I’ll scrabble for their love upon the floor,

I’ll love men
And love will love me too,
I’ll love for love’s own sake
And when I’m through

I’ll die and I’ll be thankful that your hate
Never made me beg that I was straight.
I don't generally write on the topic of being gay, although I write a lot about boyfriends etc.  Being gay is not really an issue for me, but every now and then someone will make a comment that will ******* enrage me, hence this poem. Let's stick together, doesn't matter who we fall in love with, let's not be ashamed of anything. x
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