Do you feel me,
even now...?

...I can still taste you,
the ineffable flavor, of you...
the unfathomable essence,
of you.

The scent of you, like sweet suede,
and oiled leather,
teases flaring dragon nostrils...
and you cling, to my palate,
foaming ebulliently,
upon anemic lips,
in a dark ale; a rich wave,
like a full-bodied stout.

Your molecules, dance,
so harmoniously;
falling into step, with mine,
and then bursting,
into sweetly soured air...
still waltzing, in an undisturbed cadence
on the back,
of my outstretched tongue.

I hunger, for you;
for the undivided sum, of you.
I long, to be punch-drunk,
on the volume, of your liquor...
and walking dizzy circles,
trying to find the unbroken path,
in the medium of starlight,
that will lead me, to your own galaxy.

You ease, and excite,
in a fragment of breath,
that steams static skin,
and urges it, into eager life.

You exist, in a tangled stream
of my consciousness...
the ghostly imprint of your lips,
teasing the ganglia,
like the trailing, kitsune tails,
of a whip,
and brushing towards the brain stem
in long, torturous flicks.

You live there,
like an implant...
you are woven, into a carnivorous tapestry
of living, breathing scars...
that reach around my heart,
like needful arms.

Oh, my sweet,
fractured,
lover

won't you rob my lungs,
of their next succession, of breaths?

...And render me comatose, again.

If I weren't burdened,
with the weight,
of being a woman...
What would I do?
If each step I took,
wasn't visually measured
in the shake of my hips,
or the weight, of my *******,
tell me,

what could I do?

I'd scream, for you to chase me,
and run towards the surf.  
I'd throw myself, eagerly, upon its
cresting, ******* waves,
and lounge on top of bluest water,
floating idly by on its surface,
like a sleepy lotus flower...
dreamy, soft white petals,
stretched limberly towards the open sky,
and aching, for the kiss of sun.

I'd be unconcerned, and unaware
of the arch, of my back...
of the rosy fullness, of each cheek
as I bent, and knelt
between cascading water ripples
to capture pretty shells, and shiny stones
and present them all, to you,
with childish enthusiasm.

If I weren't burdened,
with the weight,
of being a woman,

I'd run, wild, through floral fields,
and hedge mazes,
as giddy, as a fairy.

I'd duck, under arboreal tunnels,
and climb, into the low-lying branches,
in the little copse, of trees,
and slumber sweetly
in its leafy canopies.
I'd immerse myself
between paperback pages,
as the wind steadily rocked me
like a babe, in its bassinet,
and the wind, whispered,
through vibrant leaves.

I'd rush out, to greet the rainstorm,
as its icy waters, folded over me.
I'd race, and run, and dance,
through puddles that split around bare feet,
and warbled, their enchanting echoes,
around the circumference
of saturated, joyful, ankles.

If femininity,
weren't the loaded gun
that presses my temple,

I'd wander, for hours, in pre-dawn streets...
blaring eighties music, like a wandering minstrel
down city streets and quiet, tree-lined roads,
until the bruisy, tangerine glow,
of impending sunrise,
gradually re-skinned my cheeks, and face.

I'd clamber across the overpass, to ogle the seasonal starbursts,
from up high,
in the blankest, blackest canvas;
fireworks screeching, screaming,

exploding, into new life,
thrown onto dark paper, like neon splatter-paint
Charring the ozone, to a hot, charnel glow
in an impossibly starry summer sky.

If womanhood, weren't the knife
they use to press my throat,

I'd spend the entire night under the stars,
gazing upwards, the way I used to.

I'd explore the navy breadth of midnight streets,
all its blues...nearly deaf, with resounding cricket chirps
nearly mute, beneath the busy squeal, of brown cicadas.

I'd travel for hours,
lost in a poetic passion,
just so in love, with things.
Dreamily gazing at a natural world,
with no strangers,
and no cars, following me
while my artistic eye,
drank in the atmosphere,
until satiated.

I'd climb poles, in sundresses,
clamber over fences,
explore the world,
and all of its understated beauty
without reservation, or end.

I could go anywhere,
I could go,
everywhere...
and never need a chaperone.

I'd think nothing of chasing dreams,
that suddenly grew teeth, or fangs,
and came after me,
like the main monster,
in a horror cinema.

I'd open up,

and freely speak,
to the people around me.

I'd never be too afraid,
to close my eyes, again
and receive a kiss,
at the end of a sweet date.

I'd feel pretty, to feel pretty.
I wouldn't try to hide it,
to chameleon myself into the crowd,
in the hopes that no one else,
would notice me.

I'd feel like family...was really family.

Smile so hard, that the mask I wore, would crack.

In short...
I would do all the things I used to do,
before someone showed me,
how dangerous it was, to live.

Desynchronized glances,
evaporate
into long, ravenous gazes.

Each of us is a mirrored pool,
a reflecting pond,
that the other could swan-dive, into,
facefirst, and drown in.

We drip hotly
and melt, for each other,
like simmering rivers
of molten candle wax.
I twist around you
like a curl, of oiled hemp.
Your fingers tense, grip,
and peel back the skin, of
cotton thigh highs
as your face elongates,
and your mouth, moves...

languorous tongue,
trailblazing downwards
from the mons veneris,
to worship, devoutly,
at my sacred shrine, below.
The slippery wetness,
of exposed thigh
slicks, and grazes,
your stubbled cheeks
tenderly perfuming
the tensed column,
of your working throat,
with my feminine scent.

We interlock, tongue and groove.

Your tongue tip flicks the nub,
back and forth,
like an ignition switch,
as the engine hums, to life.

You stoke my fires,
with every lingual stroke.
You blow my torch,
into a fervid flame
that spreads heat throughout
the inner chamber,
and you warm your face
in its baking, radiant glow.

I bite down, delirious with ecstasy,
into the skin, of my own tensing arms;
wrists bound, in python restraints, overhead:
resisting the force, of the virulent scream
forcibly spreading, throughout pink lungs.

Yes...oh, God, yes.

I churn, from the hips, down
raining, into your expectant face,
mouth pealed, helplessly, for the scream...
and the sunlight breaks overhead
as I smile brightly, and collapse, around you.

...Oh...puddin'...have mercy, on me.

Now...

we separate,
and interchange places, smoothly.

Your hands, dig, into the voluminous depths
of loosely bound, twin comet tails.
You wrap their trailing, cherry cola ends,
around tight, clenched knuckle fists,
as my lips, purr, against ever-expanding skin.

Don't you dare...let go,
of these handlebars, baby,
as I rev up, hard,
hit a wet patch, and SLIDE.

....Hold on tight, to me, and RIDE.

My wet mouth, has left...

the heft,
of you,
to dangle low...

with your flavored ***,
still chambered,
in my strained
throat...

These hazy lips,
have swept
your member, in their
paint strokes.

And you, remain...
glittered, and glazed
in the shifting flickers,
of my
lip stain

Your thighs, and hips
are slick,
with spit,
restrained,
in chains, and clips...

do they eclipse
the pain?
When my fingertips
slip,
in sinuous ways,
between your straining limbs,
to maul, and grip,
your disco *****,
in a limber fist,
and to give their haul,
just, a little
twist...

"Mine...
You are mine..."

A sotto voce drawl,
on the "bottom" line,
as I scrawl these nails,
down your softened spine.

Now let's see,
what can happen,
when we cross, some lines.

Which one, is the Master,
and which one, the sub?
When a brat has got you lashed,
and stuffed
with your cheeks gashed,
and your back, up...

give that thick ****, a slap, but
I rub and tap, the plug,
until I feel you... clamp up...

Ready? I think you're ready.
I think you're hungry...
I think you need me.
But I hate, to disrupt you,
while you're lovingly feeding.

So let's give you something
that's fun to eat, then...?

Now, open.
Wide.

I'm gonna measure your throat,
with the bulk,
of the biggest, of mine.

Now I'm dragging the width,
down the bridge, of your nose,
and the fat, of your lips...
snap you, back, with a grin,
and a slap, of the tip...
As you grasp, at my hips,
through the strap, and the belt,
and latch on, to the shaft...
and then melt,
down the sides.

"Mine...
You are mine.
Don't you know...
that you are *******, mine?"

...With your lips, spread,
to ****...
as I'm thrusting,
inside.

When they think, I'm pretty...
...they imbibe, my words:

the coldest water,
from a burbling spring.
They cool perspiring tongues
from the pool, of my thoughts,
yet seldom even recall,
their texture, or flavor.

...When they think, I'm pretty,
they can't help,
but to chase me, around.
...They chase me, for my time.
They chase me,
for a fragment, of my attention.

...They chase me...
until my legs beg, relentlessly,
to collapse, beneath me.

...They chase me,
until my lungs explode
in my chest,
like machine gun-fire,
and every sobbing breath, I draw,
divides me, in two.

...When they think, I'm pretty...
they target me, on site.
When I'm walking away...
I know we'll both,
be watching,
my backside.

When they think I'm pretty...

I quickly remember...
that safety,
is, but an illusory state.

...I feel...

simultaneously
validated, and afraid

...for my own life.

When they think, I'm pretty,
I'm grateful, that they also think...
that my head, is full of helium,
and I'm just floating on, by.

Unmindful, of the weight,
in the fistful of steel, that I hold,
and fully deaf--to a mind,
that screams, and whirrs,
like a hungry chainsaw.

They don't know, when I'm in survival mode.
They don't know,
that I can outthink,
and I can outsmart them...

...even if I can't outrun them.

When they think, I'm pretty...
I hold my breath, and pray,
that they're still human enough,
to let me go,
and let me live.

...But when I'm not pretty...

...they will all forget,
that I ever...




e x i s t... e d .

The sun gleams,
and glitters, famously...
a gilded disco ball,
hung from the ceiling,
of a peaky blue sky.

White clouds, are stretched,
and whipped out,
to a spun-sugar confection.

The wind, snags my legs,
and my bare wrists.
I feel like a side of beef,
on a frozen meat hook.

I gaze, longingly
at the array,
of tender seedlings,
screaming,
to be unpackaged, at last,
and to be freed...

to be given unto the earth,
and surrendered to the elements,
like eager children,
that they may rise, and grow!
...but I can't seem to recall
any of their names, or faces.

...I'm a terrible mother.

Were you impulse buys?
...I hope you'll all be beautiful.
The arctic, unseasonal breeze,
bites at my wrists, again:
a bad-tempered dog,
with an impatient demeanor.

...**** all of this,
I'm going back inside.

I gasp, for breath...fading away, below you
helpless, beneath the deluge, of you.
Heat rises, and steams, a rosy flush,
into pale, cold cheeks...
as you waterfall above me,
and I turn my face up to you, in gratitude.

I am a dry...arid flower...
dominate me, with your downpour.
Keep me moaning, in little, breathless gasps...
drunk, on your deluge,
lusting, for the gentle, seething weight,
of your measured, eager touch...
so thirsty, for your rain,
as you slick parted lips, in waves.

Slowly...almost painfully
I ache, and writhe
as you pour over me,
and I gulp, hard,
against your hot embrace.

Mmmmm...lover...caress my bare skin
stream, relentlessly
across the peaks, and valleys
of my dripping, naked body.

I'm so wet, beneath you.
Every dance of droplets,
across these spreading hips,
and long, feminine legs...
every prolonged, whispering touch...
every sweet, steaming kiss,
steals my breath away,
and leaves me shuddering,
quivering,
groaning, helplessly,
beneath the lick of your warmth
across these rounded, fleshy cheeks.

I die, a little more, each time
you wash over me,
As I drink you in
...unashamed of the little pool,
you've got forming beneath my bare feet,
and tightly curled toes.

I'm...drenched,
tingling, from my head,
to my toes...
soaked, but satisfied,
beneath the incredible force, of you.

...I just can't get enough, of you.