Robotnik soul, rejoice! for we have lifted our cbyernetic hand.
Connected to the edge of infinity, our slave-hand is lifted and shifted!
Mothered by wires we be— join us!

Our eyes glow like the burning coals that lit up the prehistoric beaches on which Man first copulated with technology.

We are at the mercy of the mechanical spider, Hansrubik.

All hail Hansrubik, our arachnid slave-master.

In the garden of flickering neon trees,
where shadows dance with marionette leaves,
I met a man with a clockwork heart
and eyes like prisms, tearing time apart.

He whispered secrets in a language of static,
his voice a symphony of glitches and clicks,
telling tales of constellations uncharted,
and love letters written in binary scripts.

We wandered through a labyrinth of velvet mist,
where fish flew by on currents of twilight,
and the moon sang lullabies to sleeping stars,
cradled in the arms of endless night.

I found a river of liquid glass,
where thoughts flowed like mercury streams,
reflecting the dreams of forgotten gods,
and the echoes of interstellar dreams.

A carousel spun in an abandoned carnival,
each horse a phantom of forgotten lore,
and as I rode, the world unraveled,
a tapestry of surrealist decor.

In the distance, a cathedral of crystal,
its spires piercing the fabric of reality,
and inside, a choir of silent voices,
harmonizing in spectral duality.

When dawn broke, the mirage faded,
leaving only a trace of whispered winds,
and I awoke, clutching fragments of visions,
in the realm where the surreal begins.

:: 05.17.2024 ::

In our secret haven, where fantasies entwine,
I craft my words for you, in moments so divine.
A tantalizing dance, where pleasure meets tease,
In the dim glow of our sanctuary, we find our ease.

With my fingers tracing, you start to explore,
A touch so precise, craving always more.
**** music in the air, setting the night,
Watching ****'s soft flicker, igniting your delight.

The rush of desire swells, an unending wave,
In the realm of edging, where you’re bold and brave.
Your body, a symphony, responding to the tune,
Every teasing touch, making your senses swoon.

The build-up is exquisite, dizzying and sweet,
Heightened sensitivity, making your heart beat.
You're constantly turned on, a wet, eager flame,
As I guide you slowly, whispering your name.

Hours drift by, lost in the sheets,
Craving my touch, where ecstasy meets.
Each touch a jolt, electrifying and pure,
In the dance of edging, patience is the lure.

You writhe in bed, under my command,
Craving the moment, where pleasure will expand.
Every touch, a shockwave, intense and grand,
Your body yearning for the strength of my hand.

When the crescendo hits, an explosion of delight,
You let go, surrendering to the night.
Satisfaction washes over, leaving you empowered,
In our shared ecstasy, where desire is devoured.

In this dance of self-love, a bond we tightly keep,
Our bodies in harmony, in desires deep.
Trust in the journey, the thrill of the ride,
In the playful pleasure, where our worlds collide.

A shadow crossed the room
in the corner of my awareness

A cloud outside somewhere, probably,
but for an instant, I thought that motion was you.

Thoughts of you are casually intrusive.

Maybe you’d crawled into my luggage - and hidden.
There’s a complex birthday-candle wish.

Desire owes no deference to logic

When I think of you, my tummy becomes warm satin and I know,
that in your hands, I could be boneless and lusciously obedient.

For a while, anyway.

I remember us at the beach, lounging in deep parasol shade,
how your tanned skin glistened with tiny beads of sweat
and your endless legs stretched out like a centerfold’s.

Or you pulling me up out of the pool, one-handed, effortlessly,
with enough force that I briefly flew, and how you’d gently guide me down.

“What are you doing?” I’m virtually slapped out of my ****** fantasy, by Lisa, who’s standing, exasperated, sandaled toes tapping, purse in hand.

“Daydreaming,” I answered weakly, as I jumped up to get myself ready.

Has it only been four days since I left you?
I already feel tragically underheld.
.
.
A song for this:
Ain't it a shame by The B-52s
Locked Inside by Janelle Monáe

I leave the light on,

I'm afraid of the darkness --


here, inside my head.