My teeth won't meet
with meat between,
but if you
       a.             bite.
       b.             plain.

I don't have the mind
to deny you, of the wanton,
the treasure of pleasure
in plethora.
the magic of sensual pleasure is the most simulating powerful thing that the brain can experience
a simple touch can turn the body into overdrive
heightened senses and heavy breathing
eyes rolled back as the release is soon coming
the body clenches as the climax approaches
the brain loses consciousness it’s like a dream
I'd take you to a place of pleasure.
Where I am your only salvation.
I am what you eat.
I am what you breathe.
I can't live without you .
You can't live without me.
I recalled the smell of junipers warming in the sun,
Or maybe mice nesting under the cupboard.
Or bleached linen hung out by Mum,
Reminds me of something about Dad from long ago,
You ask me…to say if it was gin;
There are things I can’t tell you, Son.
Some people think that it’s a sin;
So just use your imagination.

Another time I smelled crushed daisies of
The housemaids, I remember from Kleßheim.
Thunderstorms rolled down from the Alps at night,
Then turned at morning into clarified, buttered sun.
They remind me of someone’s blonde hair,
I just can’t tell you when or where,
So use your imagination.

Scent is the most potent mnemonic,
Triggering mystical cells inside,
Creating a stream of biophotonics,
Rapture returns in histrionics,
Tracking things from skin and hair,
To lips and eyes, to a groan, an intrigued stare.
Things we can never tell another, even if
He or she or they were there
What happened in those brilliant days?
Only imagination can say.

Crystal hanging in the window at nine o’clock,
Rays strike the glass, opening up the past.
Before me spreads a wide, green lawn,
Ladies and lords stroll with their finery on.
I sit and watch, while the procession advances,
Tricornes doffed and stays undone in dances.
Until the satin, silk and brocades lie on the ground,
Gavotte kisses become tender, sensual rounds
And naked, youth flees into woods.
And everything is happening;
Everything is good.
This is about memory, predominantly smell, how much we remember and what is only guessed at. The last part is about memories of a past life triggered by light in a prism.
I sleep in crimson velvet,
With sunken stars for eyes
And paint with ragged fingers
A new world on my thighs
Does the soil still tease my feet?
It’s impossible to tell
Amid the purple lemon trees
And the technicolour smell

I gargle chamomile
And grow flowers from my tongue
Poppies, basil, coriander
Nature waking in my lungs
I walk on broken bottles
And bleed comet dust that stings
Peach clouds, bluebells, lavender
All my universal things

I bloom along with nature’s fruit
So she can’t abandon me
I sway with all her precious plants
Like a boat returned to sea

And one day soon you're bound to know
Without a better plan
I’ll tempt the world to let me be
The unravelling of man.
mother nature's children
Blake Jul 8
So now I weep tears of dashed hopes.
The dreadful sorrow cracking and snapping my teasing mind apart as I say a final and tardy goodbye.

But not for you,
But for the man I met all those years ago.
And for the woman that met you.

My one last wishful thought,
Is the greatest of all...
That somewhere our old souls are still prancing carefree and smirking to the pleasure and gift of our love.
When you lose yourself...that grief will always be eternal.
Draw me in lines and shades,
Blue pen on blank pages.
Paint me on your skin,
All colorful swirls and edgy shapes.
Feel me with every puncture,
In and out on your chest.
Moan with me when you can’t tell,
If it’s pleasure or painful as hell.
Cage me in the lust of the flesh,
Tattoo me with the ink of your heart.
Jack Jul 4
I want someone to cuddle when the Sun goes down
They can give me a smile out of a frown
We can laugh together at seemingly nothing
Maybe they would dance or sing
I want someone to share fun times with
When I would leave I'd seal the day with a kiss
There wouldn't need to be words for me to admire
I could look at their face and never tire
Maybe someday I could find this person
But for now it's what I want you will find me searching
Some grow old,
Some die young.
Some favor the moon,
To the warmth of the sun.
Few live it through,
To cold temperatures.
But all can burn,
All can burn.
We are all blessed and plagued by our unique experiences. But one thing we all share is that we burn. Whether it's for pleasure or shame, we all burn at some point.
It's easier to say that
you're sick rather
than to tell someone
that your heart is breaking
and explain how the
pain just radiates in your
entire body, deep
within your bones

Leaving you,
feeling empty and crippled
You dread getting up
from bed, even
going to sleep is a complete
war zone between you
falling apart and
you trying so hard
to keep it together

Your eyes look
like they've been stung,
though your heart is
what really stings
You've never stopped
praying, keeping your faith
stronger than your pain
but you start to feel bad
cause whatever you
do, it still hurts like hell

I get it, were about to
learn a lesson and
grow from it but
its just too much,
too heavy and
too painful

All you could do is
close your eyes so
tight and wish that
soon as you open them,
it already went away
So, it is easier to say
that I'm sick rather
than to say that my
heart is breaking
It's just that, you really have changed and it is killing me. But I'll try to be okay again tomorrow, I promise. :(:
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