an idea for a poem
an idea for a storm
a bright shining moment
a burning forlorn
a tightrope
between myself and safety god
a line of hope
severed by my scorn
Her
my favorite reason
focus of my impetus
I should've stayed home
I think it's psychobabble
nonsensical - shallow
to find Love alone
we're meant for together
this is a turn-off
Love letter

He’s drunk.



...but the way he stares at me with his black eyes, shows me that he truly adores me. I know he would do anything for me and to me. I crave the heat from his body as I fall asleep to his tempered breath. The moon peers from the outside, embracing us in his cool-colored waves. I place my head on his chest as he wraps his brown arms around my skin-hearts beating opposite melodies among the darkness. He awakens and pulls himself on top of me. This is my favorite position and he knows it. He is the only man in this lifetime that knows the touches I crave. I won’t let him pull away, and it is love we will make.

Dear, let me startle you by slinking my hand into
your smart, ethical decisions while I touch
quite gently
ripping to shreds
your photon ends.

Dear, let me caress your supple virtues and vows
until they blow out of proportion
merging your interests with mine
like the longing of eyes
uncanny in its distortion.

Dear, let me rip off your clothes as I grip your tight notions
ideas slipping carefully into place
like a sterile, unflinching blank slate
inching towards computed devotion.

Dear, let me carry out some foreplay
as long as you bend, not break,
delightfully stroking the edge of your plate.

Dear, let me come so close to your face
so close that it becomes blurry.

Where are my glasses in all this flurry?

Of feelings resembling photo reels on fire
shooting flames out the window
beyond everything you’ve ever known;
beyond anything you desire.

Dear, let me kiss you to submission,
your brain waves in motion
as I twist and slip into them
hormones ablaze
lighting up for days
your synapses recapturing
in a binocular haze.

Dear, let me flop on top of you
like a floppy disk, uploading your lips
into my hardrive.

Do I make you hard as fire?

Slowing burning
my hot fingers curling
up your robust spine
cracking it into
chiropractor sublime.

Massaging your tired broad shoulders
like large sofa ends.

Is this keyboard only
made for pretend?

Dear, let me mind *******
take you and light you
brighten your screen
uphold and unseen
neurons fighting as I whisper ***** words
directly into the folds of your tulip ears
too large to hear, and

Dear, let me engage my rage
into a productive haze
bolting out words, unheard of for days.

Dear, let us become undone together
like the battery of a computer
rebooting after a hectic hardware phase.

Dear, let us breathe and walk through this maze.

are you on here too?
why am i writing to you, for you?
was our love just really too much to handle?
if it was worth it please call me tonight, I promise I'll play my sound really bright.
i know it doesn't make sense but if it will ever, please know I am thinking of you ever.
Why tonight, why this love song?
i really can't make sense of it all.




i guess ill wait...for your call tonight.

Glistening with wetness,
fingers fitting in like Tetris.
Cream dripping on the mattress.
Pillow firming press against your ****,
gyrating to the thoughts of being licked.
Then ****** on like a twisted piece of licorice.
Pleasure leaking from your body through your hips
Desire holding your body captive like a hypnotist
Your skin crawling with desire screaming it's fix
Drowning your finger in a pool of your juices
Your hips ****** and twist,
and mind, lift and dip.
Our bodies working a full shift,
like we were built for each others fit.
You biting on the sheets,
I'm biting on your lip,
****** at the same time;
when our world eclipse-
our-space doesn't exist.
Off to another world,
a briefly escape to,
a pleasure abyss.

There are some places that can't be touched and there are some places that can't be kissed and there are some places that need to be kissed and some of those places haven't been discovered. I'm a handbook. *** is like drivers ed. Am I crying, or shaking from pleasure? *****. Sometimes hands are there that aren't really. Sometimes fare fine linen fingers feel like brown bony paws that don't listen to "let go".
**** me. Even when my eyes get glossy and you're wondering if I'm still there. I'm there. Grab me. *** isn't always this way.

Sometimes I'm in charge, but it isn't freaky. Don't call me a freak, call me lovely. I can **** **** ****, but don't whisper that it's *****; it isn't "*****". Sweating and running make-up. Heavy breathing. Wheres my body, wheres my mind? Don't call it nasty. It's not "nasty". Grabbing, groping, grinding; it isn't lewd. Don't call me a ****.
Touch me and remind me that I'm pleasing. Touch me and remind me that there's only me. Touch me and enjoy it. Enjoy me.
I want the lights on. I want the lights off. I want you you you.

*** isn't always this way; sometimes I'm in charge.

I am most happy when I live life fully and ambitiously. When the pursuit of my goals are met with accomplishments, and when you have undoubtable faith in not only yourself, but in us as a team.

I love you endlessly and passionately, so much so that at times it frightens me how much I love you, but with that being said all you need to know is that I happily embrace the fear.

You are both a mystery and lifelonged companion to me. You amaze me as much as you frustrate me, and I without question, would give up the world for you.

I love you and I'm very sorry.

So **** tomorrow and every tomorrow that may come after it, but know this, I will live today and every other today is happily as I possibly can, with you.

When we **** I shout: s. o. s. la vida
‘Cause our bed is more like a corrida
But when I stare at my ring with a pearl
I ask myself again, am I that girl?
When I take Mexican tic tacs with Corey
I feel like Christ is sending me that glory
But when I’m on the ground and start to curl
I whisper to myself, am I that girl?
And when I’m dancing ******* on a bar
I feel like killer **** movie star
I finish twenty lemon drops and swirl
While crying to myself, am I that girl?!