walk away from your computer lay down and make a call

i want you to travel deep into my voice i wont touch you at all

with ya own hand i want you to carress ya face slowly go down to ya breast

rub them squeeze them lick the tip of ya finger and moisten ya ****** yes

glide ya fingers across ya thighs listen to my voice as i take you on this ride

lights off door locked im not in arms reach

but if you close ya eyes my face you will see

i want you in a deep trance

as you explore with your hands

"where i wanna be"

right next to you in the dark, naked between ya sheets

kissing and carressing every inch of your body i want to taste

i go inch by inch i promise to not let a drop go to waste

"wait baby dont let go of the phone"

i know it feels real and right but in reality it is wrong

continue, take that finger you use oh so much and let it play

rub ya **** left to right up and down every which a way

now go inside hit that spot to the left , im ya director baby

switch to the right go deeper in you didnt know ya fingers felt this amazing

you are wet, soaked and yet and still you listen to my voice

begging me to direct you a little bit more

so i explain how my warms lips are ready to explore

my wet tongue adds to the juices you already have flowing

i am eating you slow genuinely feasting on your soup of lust

circular motions on ya **** i know you never felt this and thats y you were about to bust

your fingers have found there way back inside of you for a new journey

now ya body is getting hot, **** *****, amd this nut you want it

chris is going to give it to you

back to being the director i put you in school

my voice guides you to a unforgettable moment

go a lil faster baby on that thing wet ya fingers a lil more

i know you already wet so let ya fingers slide ya ****** to the front door

loose yaself this last time

im ******* ya **** and you are loosing ya mind

ya body gets a chill from ya head to ya toes

you scream chris and i already know

on the phone i read you this *** poetry

now dont instantly stop i say carress it to ease

still i can hear you breathing heavily

you stretch, yawn and say i pushed you to the max

because you never had poetic *******.......

What's the use of my hand,
if your skin is not under its touch?
What good is my skin,
if yours is not under its heat?

What's the use of my lips,
if yours are not locked with it?
What's the use of my eyes,
if yours are not looking at them?

What's the use of my body heat,
if it's not overlapping with yours?
What good is my body,
if yours is not over it every hour?

What's the use of your body,
if mine is not on top of it?
If it's not me you're sharing the heat with?
If I am not carressing it?
If I am not the one beside it?
What good is it,
if you never really knew what good is?

The barbaric queen, her abilities stiffened
His presence strickened by her directed speech
Could it be her brick fence weakend
Love had made it's way into the leaks
Thoughts become lies, diminishing her kingdom
****** passion, a caused lusting
Touching her breast
Carressing her hips
Legs shake, she is a disgrace
The guards ushering him from her towering mattress
Empathy made her a mockery
A hatchet to the soul, he is nonexistent and undesirable
Her long webbed veil, disguises her weeping
Her eyes blackened, she is a demon bleeding
Halo misplaced, in dismay
She is a woman rigid and prevailing

A curtain held by one nail
Faded blush pink, tilted
Ratted hair into knotted beauty
Eyeliner set as feathers
***** crusted stage, crackling with every step
Audience of the haunted, ghostly clapping
Amused by the audacity
She twirls
Egotistical, making her toes blister
She closes her eyes, her thighs tingling
Meat hanging on a bone barely
Hells lounge
What a crowd
The devil sharpens his hair
Perfect horns of despair
He smokes his cigar
"Keep going my queen
Famous was the only request
You never said where"
Satan's personal entertainer
He kisses her forehead,
carressing her mangled body
He loves her the best a man can,
when being the king of hell
A ferocious request, "bow everybody"

Hate it when he's high
It's something that's missing from his life that cannot be replaced
I wanted him to get high off me
High off the movements of my body
High off the carressing words I speak
What do he need to know that I am his?

The moon hangs, like the main decoration on a very eerie christmas tree, gloomily in the night sky.
Its gentle glow illuminates the world which is otherwise consumed in darkness.
The giant orb, plump like a ripe fruit-
yet glazed over with a chilling moss, inches higher and higher through the starry Milkyway.
When the clock strikes twelve it reaches summit and stops - as if basking in its own awe.
Gently, ever gently the music of the moon wafts through its carressing waves of moonshine - which hug the world below...and in the light of the full moon the fairies seem to dance and glow.
Their tunes and merriment are in celebration of the magic of dreams and fantasy in the air;
But suddenly it's not there anymore, and terror strikes the fairyfolk as they are abandoned in pitch black -
The moon has disappeared.
A candiflossed cloud eclipses the globe and steals the magic from the world.
But soon the moon is free from its disguise and the merriment continues.
Late into the night, when the goddess has long since begun her decent, like a silver'd over balloon, deflating - ever so slowly.
The fairies go back to their flowers and trees, go back to sleep and the world begins to lose its magic again...the soft symphony starts to die, in a slow pianissimo.
And just as she disapears, and sinks into the horizon, just as the dawn approaches, the world is engulfed in a deafening silence - in anticipation.
And as if the interval had gone on for hours, the sky bursts out into a carcophany of trumpets, and orchestra;
a crescendo jubilation as Apollo then edges into existence.
He brings a new kind of magic;
The magic of life.
All this I see, all this I hear when I play my sonata.
I feel the softness of the moon.
I feel the magic as I dance across the keys.
I see the world in a different light, through the music notes sketched into my mind.
And then as the night dies, I experience the rebirth of a new day, through the rise and fall of my melody -  
All in the span of just a few minutes and then its gone, all gone -
And I am left starring, alone at the blank pages.

silence was improvising in my eyes
in this tender fog between one moment
and this moment
and I could see the old love approaching
to invade me
to intoxicate me
with its hypnotic violence
this love like a fossilized wood in their gaze
came to visit me
again
with so many faces
so many whispers
it was as if angels had descended
on the barren land and
with their unthought hands
were tenderly carressing
the old bones unsung
what else could have I done
than
open my eyes and dream
the palimpsest of forgotten dreams
forged in the greatest intensity
of all the fleeting moments
in which
they blinked

(I need to shelter my heart from
the silence of decaying leaves
from the violence of life destroying
itself)

even in my youth, i did not dream of evil.

i could not fathom devils or demons
endlessly circling around a fiery pit -
painting their whispery words onto the pages
of other children's fairytales.

before i shut my weary eyes and closed the pages
of yet another gold gilted storybook, i thought to myself,

"i cannot imagine evil" -

not one dragon's white hot flames;
scorching the stone foundation of a dark tower
where a porcelain princess patiently awaits the end of a solitary life -
braiding and unbraiding golden hair until her fingers bleed.

"i cannot imagine evil" -

not one prince's frustration as
soft lips and slender hands are torn from him
and all that is left of his newfound beloved
is a sparkling slipper carressing the castle stairs
while the twelfth boom of a clock still lingers in the evening air.

no, i did not dream of evil in the twilight before sleep.

i dreamt of a delicately aging queen,
sick with worry when her dear stepdaughter did not return
from the twisted woods before the rising of a silvery moon.

i dreamt of her graceful arms outstretched for a gentle embrace
as the huntsman and the raven haired girl enter the glass hall,
hand-in-hand,

a basket of innocent ruby apples
swinging in time between them.

Close your eyes
my dear.
Last words whispering
in my ear.
I feel your skin.
Such heavenly sin.
Your hand carressing
my waiste.
Your kisses so sweet.
Don't wake up
in this dream
where we meet.

The scent of honeysuckle rests
lightly on the night breeze,
rendolent memories beguile me.

My grandparents stealing a kiss
on an old white garden seat,
his knotted fingers carressing
her weathered skin
with a tenderness that
takes her breath,
they whisper to each other
like children with a perfect secret
....long life, lived in love.

The breeze allows another,
hint of sweet nectar,
I am surrounded by the sound of bees,
wings vibrato,
greedily harvesting ambrosia,
I stand between eons,
not in fear but awe.
at the simplicity of it all.

One more fragrant breath,

I turn to my man
and whisper,
I promise to you eons.

My bare feet guide me in a spherical dance,
The full moon breeze carressing my naked skin,
The scent of silver dogwood petals overwelming my nostrils.

Drip....
Drip...
Drip....
The patient release of water from each tree's finger-tips,
Quiet, unchanging, an echo in my ears.


My eyes take in the astronomical ocean above,
Each constellation coming to life in my third eye...

"Come dance with me Stars! Come dance and move with me!"

And so the night continues, withhout time...
Only me, the stars, and abundant night.

walks on tiptoes; an arachnid of sorts
with ballet legs and great white jaws sinks its
teeth beside the collar of your jacket,
unfastening the buttons to expose
a healthy beat beat beat but the shame creeps
in, carressing a bare torso, looking;
searching for the fat in which to feast.