I have food and shelter.
I have people to love
and be loved by.

But this love is expected
and casual and quaint.
One would assume there is no room for complaint.

I am surrounded by friends.
Their love is kind and serene.
Yet no one acknowledges the space in between.

While they are all close,
No one comes closer.
No one would dare lay their head on my shoulder.

The ones who do always have to leave.
I'm left with empty arms and a lonely spot to grieve.

Average girls get balloons and sweets.
They never ask, yet still receive.
Why can't those things be done for me?

I am tired of desire.
Of wanting to be wanted.
It's as if because I am strong, my emotions are forgotten.

Touch.
It's as simple as that.
A pet on my hair or a pat on the back.

This could cure my ailment.
Make me less alone.
I can no longer survive with chats on the phone.

So please,
Good friend of mine.
Hold my hand as I shutter and cry.

The simplest gesture,
one miniscule touch.
Even if you don't realize that it means so much.

Moan.
      Y a w n.
Purr.

How I adore our meanderings.
Mornings of misfit nomads
waking to the sturdy fur of you,
     pecks, abs, inner thigh
unclad
body heat...

The world outside feels absent,
your hardness
your breath
presently
itching against yesterday's 5-o'clock
     shadow...

We breakfast on such sensations
     satin thousand threads
sifting in grips of sheets
          creating
    silken dunes of flesh creamy hues
soft mounds from our twist
                tied
tethered limbs
then opening passages with kisses
     and humid licks
our lips:
camelback & cobra songs
to Sahara

           Heatwave

where we worship obelisks
until slumber
has rendered us
              stardust and sphinx
mused and fused - our flesh again
in hymns
     this Sunday morning...

Less stealth of night but copious
is touch
         slithering undulations
         of parched needs
for us to swim in the hunger of its seas

Since sensing sensual stiffness
     your shifting
            your shaft
my blood collects
    to tighten what is mine within

When this grabs hold of us
like the blinding noon
we forgive
           that it is Sunday
mourn that I thirst for you.


Such thickets of urges
   juicy sweet confection / completion's
masculine deprevation
         half grin half flurry,
                     No worry
displacing thoughts of infection
secure in our relations...

Stretching with both my hands
behind me
        gripping with claws of the passionate
buttocks raised (waiting for rain)
as if to be seen & named
      by the gods' - creative breath and shame
           I yearn for your embrace
Heaven forgive me
for the heaven he gives me...

Affirmed
as though we were the firmaments
      sky without permission (or air rights)
to fly
comely
and in our rhythmic trance

we become Spartans
(with our war cry)
         Driven
                 Breathing
One defeat
          Shriven as we're falling
One choice to leap.

                          Exhale Olympus
Fallen pillars' hush.

Good morning, Love
   a taste of how Nirvana feels

constellations and the heavenly
wheel.

Stretching.
Eyes open to take in my world.
         Stretching

Behind
Reaching for you

if just briefly knowing the whole truth...

Sailing away from darkened waters
Moving ahead to a beautiful stream
Those nightmares now are far behind you
Your free to go and follow your dreams.

Looking now to that new horizon
Your world is now a happier place
The look of fear and deprevation
Has now turned into a smiling face.

Past regrets there are so many
No need to let them get you down
The wonderful thing about past regrets
We have the power to turn things round.

No longer the burden is on your shoulder
The weight off your mind has been carried away
Just look ahead to that new tomorrow
For tomorrow will be another day.

Sometimes I dream
But sometimes it's dark
Either colours
Or sensory deprevation
Those are my nights

My vines tangled around you
Your smile beaming warmth into my heart
So used to your prescence, I sob upon deprevation
Don't go,
Let us hang out forever.