Through limerence a longing lust lingers,
Beginning by stroking your face with my fingers,
A sensation wells from my ocean as my body swells with more than emotion,
Helpless to my impulse to begin slow smoothing motions,
Across your soft skinned irresistibly gorgeous pert body,
None of you remains untouched apart from the parts the animal in me wants so much,
As smoothing turns to grasping heavy breathing turns to gasping,
Breathing and heaving in unison as I hold you tightly within my clutch.

You whisper softly, longingly your desires of the night,
As our breath becomes heavier we can't control ourselves try as we might,
The rustling of clothes as they become dispensable items,
Only serving to ready us for the sound of skin on skin as the intensity heightens,
Light thuds as clothes fall to the floor,
You moan in a way that lets me know you want more,
In our underwear we hold one another our lips smacking,
Our movements make the bed make sounds of creaking and cracking,
You gasp for air and sigh loudly with delight,
Your body underneath me is the most glorious sight.

My hands can't help move down your sides to that thong you have on,
While they stay on your hips a while as I kiss your stomach I know it won't be on for long,
I slowly slide it down past your thighs,
As I kiss the inside of them we are both on a high,
I move my lips to your lips below your hips,
Taking care to do here what I do there as you begin to flip.

I move my head up slowly to yours as I kiss along the way,
I'm rock hard when I reach you but I stay outside to play,
I slowly move inside you as you feel me throbbing strongly,
As I move in and out my hands don't stop as you start moaning loudly,
The bed it rocks from side to side as if on choppy waves,
The sound of you in ecstasy is what my body craves,
As we reach the top of what we got I leave some of mine in thine,
The afterglow is so bright it's like nocturnal sunshine.

Parkland, Fla. February 14, 2018

One more senseless mass homicide
   twas the sole arbitrary aim
as a former student nonchalantly
   sauntered empty hallways
   seconds preceding blame
brazenly intent to maximize total killed

   matter of factly telling police
   (his incomprehensible)
   (ill) logic he did explain
when cornered, he willingly,
   unflinchingly, reticently admitted guilt

Nikolas Cruz rocketed
   to instantaneous infamous fame
   pulling a fire alarm
   ("FAKE") emergency,

   then going leisurely ambling
   along his killing spree
total of seventeen slain (comprising 3 faculty
   and 14 students)
   mercilessly gunned down
   as if they were wild game

when handcuffed, an innocuous
   19 year old did readily admit
emptying one firearm after another
   at a fairly rapid clip

then at some predestined
   or spurious moment didst dip
and dive out amidst
   the chaotic madding crowd
   before reality flopped then did flip
as lower teeth nervously bit upper lip

made feeble getaway
   at a nearby eatery casually flirted
   with cashier and made no move to flit
upon his seizure as cornered prey

   subsequently large tract
   massively cordoned off
   strong arm of the law
slightly halting in speech
   detailed his gambit

deliberately staking
   a stance to maximize hit
and once again afflicted parents lit
up with rancor and rage pit

toughly battling sorrow
   which will not quit
til death doth
   those grieving family visit.

what have i to do with these grips,
these squared, white knuckles
holding tight to handle bars?
what have i to do with these empty stares,
eyes void of truth?

these "fill-in-the-bubble, A B or C, music only reaches the ears" types of humans
attempting to tell me how to carry out my existence,
attempting to tell me the most efficient
practical
mindless ways to die?
attempting
to tell me
to show me
the most rewarding ways
to die.

what have i to do with these sculptors
who try and quantify the rain,
who try and evaporate
the sun?
what have i to do with these ideas of perfection, of what is best?
these assumptions of false fulfillment,
these preludes to orderly, institutionalized chaos
and contempt?
what have i to do with all of these cardboard boxes
which cannot differentiate between being filled
empty
open
closed
soft
rough
dry
loved?
what have i to do with those who cannot detect their own storms,
their own energy waiting to explode?
what have i to do with one shade of blue?
what have i to do with feet that cannot move,
knees that cannot bend?
what have i to do with white houses
black cars
trimmed bushes
a front porch?
what have i to do with stationary?
what have i to do with these wings
unless they are free to flutter?
what have i to do with structure
with corners
with average
with plain?
what have i to do with boredom
with settling
with insignificant breath?

what have i to do with waste?
what
have i
to do
with waste.