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 Dec 2013 Quentin Briscoe
JM
Aching for your skin
Remembering all your smells
Dying for your touch
Nothing So Sensuous


Last night, I went back in time and met Alice Liddell in 1862.  
Alice Pleasance Liddell, known for most of her adult life by her married name, Alice Hargreaves, inspired the children's classic Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, whose protagonist Alice is said to be named after her.  See her, greet her, in my banner photo, and all will clear.
~~~~~~~~~

nothing so sensuous
as to watch a woman,
nay, a woman child,
brush her hair
in the mirror.

sensuous,
more than sensual,
all my senses
affected.

luxuriating in a gift that
cannot be
bought,
her head titled,
then thrown
from her chest as far back,
your eyes see waves
of chestnut in
slow motion,
the smile on her face
for the knowing that
she has
sorcerer succeeded
in capturing
all of you.

mesmerizer,
she languidly strokes
her hair,
though it needs it not.
no, she brushes you
to your
knees,
your eyes,
see her eyes,
in the mirror,
the woman's sensuality
maddening.

every sense alerted,
you body fired,
far beyond
merely stirred,
she has you,
and then she asks...

would you brush my hair?
have you ever been in love?
have you ever had to tell someone
you no longer loved them
though you still did?


you answer:

Oh yes, Oh may I?

yes, with you totally, at this very instant.

yes, for I
must leave you
and return to
my time, my age,
150 years from now


the only way
I can do that
is to lie to myself,
no, I do not love you
that much,
not that way,
pretense,
for the agony of this


impermissible desire

is such ecstasy,
that I can
only dare to
write of it,
in my time,
lest I fulfill
it in ours.
A true story, a true adventure. If u want to time travel with me, then u must come to NYC, for that is where I depart.  All expenses paid for time travel.  You come here, we travel. Must be 21 and over and bring proof of age.  They are Fussy, about that!
Also, must make reservation well in advance. Small time travel machine accommodates only 15 people....and currently the only "destination" is Victorian England.
partway along the path that all must tread
wrong turning taken in the dusk and muck
no hope to find the proper road ahead

so easy then to say that truth had fled
give up on life along with all my luck
partway along the path that all must tread

while many voices echo no words said
could quite convey how badly one was stuck
no hope to find the proper road ahead

darkness around the human world abed
so easy then the mortal form to shuck
partway along the path that all must tread

where none could scream from simple weight of dread
no light could come from passing car or truck
no hope to find the proper road ahead

the only message was you must fall dead
the world goes on no one will give a ****
partway along the path that all must tread
no hope to find the proper road ahead
 Dec 2013 Quentin Briscoe
st64
mouse
 Dec 2013 Quentin Briscoe
st64
sshhhhh......


the mouse I'm in
is so petrified of breathing

life is a cat waiting to pounce
on every move I make

many moves through perdition-land
and the frog croaks



croak-croak*



S T - 4 dec 13
Time does not bother me no more
and love is what it is
seams to me on a distant shore
time has just become
What it should be
But life can pass you by
Life seams as if in backwards
seams as it has stopped
but there is still movement
on my shore
maybe love exists

When I smoke the **** then maybe I am not sure.
Could be called Mary Jane.      :-)
 Dec 2013 Quentin Briscoe
st64
walking along
tormented path



1.
daisies hum hymns in flutter-eyes
weeping willow leans down to whistle
a medley of fifteen-odd tunes you used to know
but never quite did grasp
the axis merry-tilts just a bit and
you try to grab hold of a patch of sullen-sky
but the clouds shift once more
and you're unexpectedly holding rain in your joints
running steady-rivulets in the morrow's wrinkles

2.
you step onto the pavement
avoiding the lines
a knack acquired over years of practice
on the sidelines of others' lives

kerb jumps up like a ***** with no chapeau
its inordinate-syllogism bites your ankle
like a swarm of ants in dread-ire
in disorderly tornado-twirls

step.. step.. step..

walk on*.....


(piece-a-cake....right?)






S T - 4 decked / on / double
wave yer flag at the moon, baby.....wave!
I'll be watching :)
Daddy's little princess such a tarred delusion in white.
Let's forget all it's only between me and you and the page tonight.
False hope's and new found delusions  let me slide this hand up that skirt .
Maybe it's wrong but what could feel more right.

You wanted to taste the edge so I took you to the razor.
embraced are sins and found new freedoms sweetheart was it as wicked as you could have ever imagined?

Maybe I'm the worst but it wasn't what you clawed into these shoulders last night.
Cheap moments wasn't it a hell of a time.
Matchbooks of places road stops of emptiness wasn't it a dream that new a nightmares embrace?

If you need a friend it wasn't in the cards but torment is truth mired by *******
can I interest you in one last fix.

Sweet nothings weren't on the menu but the passion could have burnt us both.
I hold no remorse but understand every scar holds a memory I wont bother you with that greater good speech sweetheart it's simply goodbye.

A quick slap beats a broken desire the magic was pure no matter the cancer we shared
in backseats and empty nights regression.

I recall you although I would never admit .
Every scar I treasure for sometimes your the one that I can never forget.

I'll wash it away and hopefully for you it will be something better not to have been.
**** the stories the page always makes us bleed in the end.

Paper cuts are that and nothing more.
 Nov 2013 Quentin Briscoe
Àŧùl
Imagine a time when you get older,
Even I get older with you by my side,
What do we do if all remaining is rust.
We will remember that day we talked first,
Never will sway this cauldron full of trust,
Support this with our knees if we must...
We will be with each other as we must,
Never will wane our cute ***** trust,
We will love our love life as our first..
Support this way we confessed first,
Never will any distance be in trust,
Support this another mile if you must.
My HP Poem #488
©Atul Kaushal
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