Born of hearts deepest secrets
brilliant fame blazing heat
yet never burning
Deep mountain springs flow
into sensual rivers

Transforming in deepest night
into the shape of a man touched by Midas
Jasmine scented abyssal angel

Deep shadows in the place of eyes
I will take you to my bed of spider silk
Vision entranced, fire serpent sybilene

Embracing the lightning reflected
in diamond faceted eyes
We are storm and shadow
within one living flame

Like an eager painter
I’ve splashed red across the milky white
Deeper in the center pinker as it trails out,
She loves the way the leather brushes her canvas
Stinging swashes and caressing strokes,
Her smile rings of joy where the moans cry out in pain.

There’s a twinkle in her eyes
Smallest pellet of tears working
Simultaneous with the pooling drenching tight clad cotton
I can smell Dior mixed with her sweet nectar,
Tickling the nose just over the bristles of my rough stache
And I return to my canvas, another broad swash,
Another clapping slap of skin to hide;
Echoed sounds reverb in stereo back tracked by the sweetest cry


“Please” isn’t a need
And barely a beg,
Show me with the wiggling of hips
Tease me with slight arches
Waft your *** to tremble my senses
Make. Me. Lose. Control.

She pants, heavy breaths
Shallow, quick - needing
The brain is in a fog - a haze
One tracked, foaming at the tongue
Drooling down her chin,
Flush ruby rose cheeks -
She’s fiending like an addict
Out of control convulsions when the brush tickles the warmth of wounds
She’s swooning with her body, slithering in silk sheets like a snake in sand

“Come for me”
I command it, not ask for it
I demand it, not suggest.
My fingers press against the fabric
And with one swift grip the cotton fails
Ripping from the wetted seams and drenched middle
Honey sticking to glistened flower petal lips
Looking like spider webs caught in rain.
How pink and perfect, dribbling uncontrollably-
She is ready.

I enter an index and *******
Folds gliding and inviting first and second knuckles in,
Curling down pressing towards the belly,
Opening and curling, come hither, follow directions
Make me happy, make me proud.
Make. Me. Lose. Control.

It doesn’t take much
The build was effective,
Her body was quaking for release
And as her body shivers and shakes
Her screams go hoarse,
Eyes roll back and sight nearly goes black,
Her core contracting like doing sit-ups at lightning speed
Her leather cuffed hands grasping sheets
We have reached the crescendo

And after the crash and clash
After the waves have passed,
A silent bemoaning remained.

“PlEaSe….”

And then I lost control…

I find it hidden in my garden
a secretive flower
I slowly unfurling it’s dusky petals
caressing it’s long stem

I am drawn to it’s inner bud
and caress it with my tongue until
sweet nectar flows

I am the Queen Bee
that creates honey from nectar
Grows orchids from black earth
and passion from poetry

Two new roses
growing next to each other,
silky petals just touching
Their delicate stamens
the sighing breeze
sets up a rhythm of caress

A honeybee brushes between them
understanding the ways of young flowers
His probiscus delicately probes
until it releases a flow of nectar
They comply
reluctantly opening

As a heady perfume
is released into the air,
the honeybee replete
weaves his way back to the hive
He hums with intoxicated
honeyed repletion

The first peach ripened
on the young tree
is easily plucked
It’s velvet against my lips
the ******* of it’s delicate sweet juices

Some cream to pour over it
then we eat it together
Our tongues touch
it’s soft flesh yielding

Then for a single plum
with it’s silken bejewelled skin
I delve deep to release
the gushing juice
anticipating
fresh figs, persimmons, morello cherries

Cleft of mystery
shadow leading to hidden waters
A mysterious spring that feeds
the well of dreams

Essence of rose,
she is bound with silver chains,
released to ride the night

At sunset I enter
love’s Eleusian mystery
Lost in her flowing waterfall
of midnight hair

She is rose and jasmine
and tigers breath
Orchids of night surround us
ecstatically she sips their nectar

Moon moth and night blooming flower
at sunrise vanishing
into the carmine sky

Oh, please tell me why I still care for the side of you that always
lets me down – my mind becomes your fence, picking at all of my
thoughts – each one a slat in a picket fence to surround your own
insecurities.

Tell me what lights are coming on, to keeping on pretending that
love still turns you on; have you truly spent the nights restlessly
trying to fall asleep in a **** pose, draped in nothing but a pyjama
thong?

You shed your clothes more readily than your skins, that could
unveil the core of your true self –  “this time, I am changing,” you
proclaim, yet what truly changes if you harbour such shame for
the loose parts of yourself, tell me what’s the point of looking for
change, if you don't want to fully change?

My Life is seen as a mess
In reality, it is as organized as can be
People always use their minds
To double-check what they see
I have never tried to hurt anyone
But when they think about myself, they ruin me

My Life is like trash, some say
To me, it's a beautiful display

People cut me down all the time
But my eyes tell me what always rhymes

It looks like my mental state made a disappearance
To me, My Life had never been an interference

I always felt the need to please others, it lifts you in the air
But for someone like me, you feel self-aware

Now, I'm stuck here, breaking the fourth wall
As I type this out, and speak to you all

No matter what the time, day, and place
The world feels like a runner in a race

People will pass you, for a short, little while
But don't let that get to you, just think, compile

Once you learn to accept that, all becomes clear
That it wasn't your mental state that began to disappear

So let people pass you, let them reach the finish first
But don't let your knowledge in that race disperse

You can speak in riddles or speak in rhymes
but just remember, its a matter of time

Please think about this, as I get to your head
Let this poem help you, and let you rest in your bed

For that is what matters now, don't forget it
Once this skill is learned, you can be omnipresent

Do your eyes still traverse the corridors of memory, like a VCR
rewinding its cherished tapes? Capturing your reflection in the
mirror—still radiant, unadorned, and unapologetic. I still find
myself consumed by jealousy for that bathroom mirror,
privileged to witness you from every corner of your room.

Consumed by the sinister allure of your skin’s shadowy depths,
a brilliance emerges that rivals the most exquisite treasure.
My dear, you continue to weave a tapestry of uncertainty around
me—thoughts hovering like spectres above, even as you attempt
to mask the passage of time with a new hue in your hair.

Yet, your capricious emotions betray you, revealing strands of silver
that ravenously consume my heart, and each sigh a testament to
your power. You ought not to linger in the recesses of my mind,
yet these last seven days have only intensified my fascination,
leaving me utterly weak.

I cast my laments to the skies, my spirit weeping profusely – the
cascade of your lip’s whisper, the tempestuous tides of your form,
the fortress of towering trees echoing the curve of your legs – how
can I possibly avert my gaze from your enchanting eyes? You have
transformed my heart into a crime scene, slaying me piece by piece,
all for the sake of uniting with you.