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Beneath these
satin sheets,
my memory
flutters like
little birds on
indigo nights.

Folded wings
rest in my
mind's eye.
Fingers itch with
Delta of Venus,
orchids in bloom,
wet with the
sticky dew.

I grip my
and begin
a slow
It feels so
Check out my you tube channel, where I read my poetry.
Anais Vionet Apr 2022
We (Lisa, Leong and I) attended a cross-campus Health *** seminar the other day. I have to admit to some self-consciousness. I was worried that some professor would see us and judge - I still have some self-work to do. I’m fighting to be freer, to be well.

In an effort to destigmatize ***, they gave out vibrators - over a hundred in ten minutes - they ran out - there was a demand. That was pretty sic. I guess no one wants their dad to see a ******* charged on the family Amazon account (again).

Which got me thinking about how sexuality is different throughout the year - by season. Of course, this is the pandemic era. The last two freshmen classes have been the most isolated in history.

Which brings me to mask-crushes. Early on in the year, you may have had a crush on someone whose face you hadn’t actually seen. That girl mask-crushing on you might not think you’re as cute maskless but then maybe she’s not as hot either.

By the seasons. Admittedly, this is a cerebral look at a hot subject but I’ve asked this around and within my peer-group these are the agreed upon numbers.

Fall is when college began, summer tan lines were fading but the cafeteria was still full of summer stories. You were meeting new people or perhaps missing someone. You might have gotten a little flirty after you settled in. Still, temperatures were dropping and it was time to start covering up. ******* was recommended as the safe pandemic alternative but in some cases, new freedoms were too much to resist. ******* - 9, hookups - 1

In Winter things really slowed down, we got out even less and classes got grimly serious. There was a seasonal effect to the darkness. Of course, we needed to stay warm and maybe we cuddled up more. We’d met people by then and hookups happened but usually within our own social groups. ******* - 7, hookups - 3

Spring came in with a sneeze as the world brightened and those thoughtless plants pollinated. It was almost shocking to see how many people there were on campus. You tend to forget how many are around because everyone was sheltering or using the tunnel system. There were chances, on nice days, to get out and have fun again - just as those clothing layers started coming off. ******* - 5, hookups - 5

Then there’s summer - in my experience, summer sexuality is different - everyone’s freer, less stressed, the clothes are thinner, smaller and more revealing. The world is greener, brighter and hotter. Everyone’s making their critical summer decisions now. Some people I’ve talked to can’t wait to go home and get laid - not me - but some pretty explicit plans have been laid out around here. ******* - 3, hookups - 7

What are your ratings?
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Cerebral: intellectual in nature.
Thomas W Case Feb 2022
What has become of me?
I've turned into such
a reprobate.
Watching ****, and
neglecting writing.
I think of Nin and
Henry Miller, turning
lust and clitoral
stimulation into
****** literature.
And here I am...
*** stains on my
laptop, and looking
sadly at the miniature
bust of Shakespeare on
my writing desk.
Even he looks disgusted.
poem for word of the day by BLT...Reprobate
preston Dec 2021

Breathtaking beauties, they all are..

Ha.. but They'll cut your ******'  heart out
if you ever turn to face them

Yet even with this  slice-n' diced
brokendown, blood-pump
I can still.. so very much, swear

that every single one of those gorgeous
little sunsabitches,

    were sent, directly  to me
    by the very hand of God

I am not afraid of you,  Loves..
Beautiful, singing sirens  from the beginning
and always always, cloaked within
your elaborately-contrived,   indirectness.

I don't know where my world  would be
without you

<3     .    .    .

a story:

I dreamed you, I saw your face
I cut my lifeline..
I went floating through space
And I saw an angel..  I saw my fate
I can only thank God it was not too late

Over mountains I floated away
Across an ocean I dreamed her name
I followed an angel down through the gates
I can only thank God it was not too late

Sing a little song of loneliness
Sing one to make me smile
Another round for everyone
I'm here for a little while

Now I'm walking this street on my own
But she's with me everywhere I go
Yeah I found an angel, I found my place
I can only thank God it was not too late
I can only thank God it was not too late
I can only thank God it was not too late

~Beautiful, Brother Tom
Bea Burnett Apr 2021
Some nights,
I travel my fingers through my hair and across my thighs,
Eyes closed, but my heads filled with visions of you.

Goosebumps like Braille, spelling your name, over and over and over,
And over,
And over

I mimic your movements,
Slow and steady,
But it’s such a shame that the space beneath my eyes,
Is so much wetter than the place between my thighs,
And it’s so silly how I choke and I cry,
On your name, again and again.
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