Body

Let me love and care for the art piece
of your body- every pulsating touch of your
spasms. Jumping wildly; while washing
me in your spring water on top a mountain
of passions. I’ll spurt within you, from its tip.

And in kind; let the wetness of your lips
sooth my skin. Kissed by your sensual soul, as
it echoes every word of thirst, running down your
throat; chasing after every breath we lose in
a moment.

                       Still, let us not love in haste.

Amazon Queen

I gaze at you, as my sprouting rose in
bloom. But not something so delicate; she is
tall, shapely, and sturdy— my Amazon Queen
that keeps me in the centre of her rainforest.

As she lets my words water her floret by
their tip- its warmth and gentleness spoke of
a love so deep and fulfilling.

*******

Oh, how she stimulates my eyes,
as I make out with her eye’s persuasion;
my mind often rehearses how I’ll love her
in it’s imaginations- my mind’s perfect
simulation;

For our desires are much sweeter,
by every bite of her smooth chocolate skin
I adore her more than I would have
yesterday- to quietly bless each step
she’ll take tomorrow. And a reason for me
to kiss her feet.

Moist

Surely as the night is washed by the gentle rains-
I have these saturated thoughts, pondering how
she’ll drown me over another night’

As she could never
have the most without I in the middle;
her underwear feels so moist.


Climactic Prelude & Conclusion

Would you love to experience a climactic
prelude; a middle so sweet in its time;

While my eyes ripen at the sight of your
ripening fruit,

Oh, so sweet in its time, let me capture
and savour that juicy fruit,

For yes indeed we had fallen in love-
but let not that fruit eventually fall;

From its tree, to rot off its vine; let me bite
you as mine- to taste your heaven’s ecstasy;

In this climactic prelude; I promise the middle
is filling, and its conclusion won’t be short lived.

I sat there waiting for myself;
patiently, so anxiously- my thoughts between beauty,
love, ambiguity; a tragedy and all manners of happenings.
While we were both picturing the inkling of make-up
***- but we lacked the foundation of making love.

Holding onto the fear of more arguments
afterwards, so tightly like a hug. I was choked
out for most of my words, fitting over the hand
of fabrications, like a perfectly fitting glove.

It all became a tacit question
between the both of us: “this time, will we make
an effort at making love, or is it another downwards
spiral of us just being so down to ****?”

We were both smoking long blunts;
-having a much longer conversation
and she confessed a truth about self:

[Her hands had grown a fatigued touch,
too tired to touch the rest of itself
Her body a trade of secrets; constantly learning
all of the best places, to please herself.

And lastly, our eyes, both held history of
**** pictures- seeing each other with our naked
eyes; and of course, the many glares of knowing
how to please ourselves.

      Two lovers, who truly loved themselves.

I’ve decided we never really grow up
we just keep having birthdays
because every few months
I’m a whole new me again
from the one I was before
I still don’t feel fully grown
everyday creates new thoughts
those thoughts lead to new paths
new paths lead me to
Me

Fractured floorboards, splintered dreams, remnants of affinity misused. Tangled in deception's cold grip, a confidence that time diffused.
The doorway stands a hollow shell, its promise turned to rust.

Rebuild I will, with steady hand. Rebuild I will, on sturdier ground,
A fortress at my core. My domain, once breached and lost will rise from wreckage bold.
No trespassers on hallowed ground, their stories left untold.

With hammer's blow and measured pace, mending what once was mine. Each nail a vow, a whispered strength, a will nonetheless to shine.
Though shadows linger in the past, a future I define.
These hands will craft a world anew, where flames of purpose twine.

Oh for this day I wait
to be nothing.
No more pondering tomorrow, going back to a blank slate
wiping the name only to be rusted.
The long awaited venture of not competing with yourself
Oh boy, I cannot wait for what life has in store.
Actually I take that back, I will race no more.

Dim light paints the gallery, a canvas of dust.
Where brown hues mask portairs, memories ******
Behind cracked frames, tapestry of loss.
Faded echoes stir, emotions at a toss.

With chains of past, I stand, a captive soul
Unable to relive, yet forced to stroll
Through halls of what was, a hollow, echoing space.
A silent question hangs etched upon my face:
"What can I create now that the past is gone?
Is there no spark, no flame to ignite the dawn?"

Ashes remain, where flames once brightly burned,
A yearning for colors vibrantly returned.
For life's battery can dim, its vibrancy wane,
But within this gallery, a new path I'll obtain.

No longer bound by the dust and the gray,
I'll step out towards the sun a brighter day.
This gallery holds the past, but the future is mine.
A canvas untouched with space for design.

Ahh, back to the drawing board, oh I forgot it's covered
Huh, no markers. I got to grab some from the store.
Guess I'll use the chalk, bored, my Lord.
What was it I was to write, I think had quite a lot
To draw from this dot and finish this plot.
Dotted-Lines to jotted and where...does...it...end?
Wait, where is the line I slowly penned.
Is this the lesson I intend?...Where is the the board?
I thought it was right here, not a question
Prepping for class to be in session....

Start of the week complete, yet many have tested me
To See if I pique, vex 'till I'm freaked.
Creeping up on me like I'm a beast waiting to wreak havoc.
They critique my meekness until I unleash the deepness
Bringing to my meanest, as they view me as weakness.
To say I'm rude but their ears are unready for the truth.
I was calm, leave me be was all you had to do.
All thought I would be humble and let it slip, but here's the twist
There's names written on my list...Try me, I insist!
Haha