He insists
preparing his zucchini
paying adequate attention
becoming a cook-off
looking forward to the tiramisu
the event drastically physical

Limbs overlap and our souls tangle in an  
   unimaginable infinity
Your ragged breath overtakes my whispered    
   sighs
I can no longer decipher where you end and I  
  begin
We lay in clouds of euphoria
Basking in the miraculous presence of an
                unknown God and an inevitable death
I am barely aware of the hours passing while your fingertips trace the beauty you interpret as
    my pale skin

Who could have foreseen this tantalizing joining
    of flesh
Neither you nor I seem to care as we rest in the
    other's glorious embrace

They say that the human being is a primal creature
That deep down likes to bite, to scratch, to hunt
Mark their own territory
And like so many other primal animals, feels this intrinsic pleasure in subduing others

People say many things
But in my world, pleasure and pain mix together
Primal creatures show their claws
For others willing to be subjected

I once heard that *** becomes human from the moment it becomes ******
For me however, eroticism doesn't depend on ***
And the primal is the most human and the most civilized of them all
Just like the ones that look at me right now
They see my movement and judge me feline
Sharp claws, curious look, precise movements
And I don't even need to show my fangs into a smile
For them to understand who the predator is
After all, as I already mentioned
Pleasure and pain mix

We feel ******* vibrations
When our skin touches
And I place lips on your lips
And grab your hips.

And you bury your face in my neck
And it fits perfectly.
Make the love to me -
But without any penetrating
Because your voice alone
Can be my release
And your kisses
Are an ejaculatory
Ecstasy.

So bite me.

I wish I could get what I want
Without crossing any lines
Without obligations
Just succumbing to pleasure
No judgment, no complaints
No questioning of actions and anxiety
Letting our bodies decide
Sliding into each other's thoughts, feelings, pants
Colliding, groaning, neglecting
The insignificant events outside
Of our space

I wish I could make it our space
I wish there weren't so many obstacles
Keeping me alone and away from you
Are those forces permanent?
And if they are, am I powerful enough to withstand them
On my way to you

Will you wait for me?
As I'm crumbling to pieces in front of you
As I'm spilling my blood and soul just to prove my conviction
Suppose I never reach you, abandon my quest
Will you forget, or will our memories last?

It's March in California and,
It feels like an early September evening in Virginia,
An owl is cooing,
A nostalgic singsong that reminds me of the woods behind my parents house,
Comfort seekers in my senses inflate,
Disappearing into a heady haze,
Anything to distract myself from the mini self-betrayal I just executed.

I can watch myself as I do it,
Basking in this nostalgia,
The detachment from my pain easing my shoulders,
Making me feel high,
Or maybe it's the serotonin and dopamine,
Coursing around in my body,
Freely,
As it pleases,
Results of.

The owl is howling and my roommate is home,
My phone is silent and I'm blissfully alone,
Detachment, detachment, detachment,
My favorite drug, how I've missed you.

So sickly happy,
So near to trauma,
(my familiar place)
But my perspective saving me from feeling it..

I could be in Virginia in 2008,
My legs a little hairy,
A breeze blowing through my long, long hair,
Innocence teasing me.

Or I could be here, now,
Listening for an owl that has stopped calling.

How delicious. Sweet detachment.

My favorite drug.

Let the babble stop
Let the brain farts cease
Let pleasure be your guide
And the poet slip into their persona,
Like a performance uniform,
A slip dress
An existential throw up of thoughts like
Bad Chinese food.
The kind that climbs out of Tupperware,
slippers ready

Of Tupperware and ready slippers
***** out takeaway rice.
Performance uniforms sit up in bed,
Babbling about existential poets.
The bad Chinese food
Waltzes with its guide,
Brain dribbles out of nostrils.
Dear night-shoes,
This babble has ceased,
Pleasurely.

Dead, I sit in the midst of dread
Dreary, amongst a precocious star
Oh, look at how it flies by
Light years from where I start

As stagnant desires dance in limbo
Enslaved to a vicarious libido
I’ve done this rain dance before
Deduced to a pointless chore

It’s true I may never know
How to crawl out of the row
A legacy of confusion
I’ve inherited from my fight
And if time is a mere illusion
Then there is no end in sight