I think
I think in buds
that root
and sometimes
blossom with you

but don’t get cute about it

The slide has a 60 pound weight limit.
The slide has a 60 pound weight limit and
It smells like freshly mown grass and a
Soaked one piece Ariel swimsuit—the pink ruffles that
Cling
To a toddler’s stomach rolls as she squeaks and squelches down the plastic
Into the dark blue Made in China kiddie pool
That has creatures from all levels of the ocean together
And she doesn’t care.
The slide has a 60 pound weight limit and
Has visible handprints on the sides from
The toddler holding on for dear life before
She gathers the courage to balance on top on her own.
The slide has a 60 pound weight limit and
Sits in that yard for almost a decade at the end
Of the sickly green swing set that lifts up out of the ground
Whenever the toddler pumps too hard,
And is a end destination for the intense races across the apparatus
That occur every Sunday noon amongst the Sunday School kids without fail.
The slide has a 60 pound weight limit and
Under it is one of the best places for hide-and-seek in the winter,
When it is almost buried under the glistening snow
And the toddler can’t feel her legs anymore but she doesn’t care because
She can’t be found.
At that age she has no limits, no mental restraints that
Cut her dreams off before they bear fruit.
The slide has a 60 pound weight limit,
And of the world beyond it she is only a
Prisoner of fierce fascination.

I want to feel you so deep
a soul connection, inside me
I want to beg you for more
As you leave me ***** and sore
Your touch give me chills
and your finger, well it gives me thrills
Kiss my neck as you touch my body
As your hand slide down my side, don’t worry baby make it naughty
I love to feel you so deep
I love the way you make love to me

I cling to the rough,
warped edges
and **** in a breath
as I feel them tear
through my fingers.
The blood makes it slick,
easier to fall,
or easier to slide.

I shuffle my feet,
and I slide,
ever so delicately,
wind slapping my face,
but gently.  
We slide here.

I came out here to see
something.
I don’t know what.
I could hear it humming
in the back of my mind,
and it sounded warm.

My blood is warm,
and the cuts sting,
more when I grab on
tighter.
I can feel some going right
down to the bone.
I wince when it scrapes,
but my teeth don’t crack,
so I can hold on
a little longer.

It’s quiet,
and I know there
should be voices.
There should be
many voices.
Shouting.
Screaming.
But there’s nothing.
Only the wind in my ears,
and the shuffle of my feet.
There’s no sound for when I bleed.

At least it’s bright out.
I just wish I could see
something.
Anything, so long as
it’s warm.
I could hear it,
like a promise,
in a dark room with
bare white walls
and rain coming in
through the cracks in
the window.

It’s gone now,
even the room
is gone.
And it’s so quiet.
It hurts being out here,
so I slide, ever so quietly.
No one will hear me,
not out here,
not if I slide.

The ground is close.
I could make it.
I could let go,
and still bleed,
but the pain would end.
I could let go,
and maybe then I’d
hear them.

The ground is close.
I could make it.
Maybe even
land on my feet.
I could let go,
and walk it off.
Walk,
but where?

Even the room
is gone,
and it’s so quiet,
no one to even
scream.
I came out here
to see.
To hear,
to feel
something.

I walked
here.
And now there’s only
the blood on my hands,
and the silence,
and I can’t feel the pain
anymore,
it’s too deep,
there’s only the blasted
silence,
and the bright light of day
that blinds my every move
as I try to climb and wish
I could jump,
and if I could only hear them,
hear them shout,
scream,
“Climb!” or
“Jump!”
I would do either in a heartbeat,
just to stop the blood.  
Just to stop the pain I can’t even feel.

But everything is gone.
So I slide.

Horses clop,
Rabbits hop.
Frogs jump,
Caterpillar ****.
Worms wiggle,
Bugs jiggle.
Snakes slide,
Seagulls glide.
Lion stalk,
I walk.
Come on all lets dance,
Let's take a chance.
Clippity clop, hop  hop,
Jump and ****,
Now bump your ****.
One,two jiggle and wiggle,
Please don't giggle.
Slide and glide,
Don't hide,
The room is wide,
You can even ride.
Dear Mr Lion don't stalk,
Sit on a rock,
So I can do moon walk.
27/3/2019.

‪They play. ‬
The fingers when they slip into your hands, snuggling gently into their warmth reminding why touch isn’t always a screen that turns bright with fever, yet never turns on.

They feel.
The fingers when they slide into the countless caresses rippling down your pretty head, only parting so gently to reveal the forehead glistening with sweat and love.

They tease
The fingers when they ski over your naked skin revealing the tender pores in the slow shiverings and infinitesimal bumps that raise their Lilliputian heads and come alive.

They sing
The fingers when they feel your flirty lips and the tongue looking to mate darts out, to speak of stories that lie hidden behind the brightest shades stroked to life with perfumed wax.

They mate
The fingers when they feel your shivering thighs and explore the depth of your love making you moan in disbelief, figuring out what makes you love who you love and spill it all over.

Let me live at your eyes

One says

You must be a sailor as swimmer or fly

You must have a way to be in her sight

In her eyes, in her heart or in her right

You must be faith with a word you said

"I love you" you must be by my side

You must keep the sail slide

But you must be fair that you may get a slight

That love makes you forget your eat

Makes you dream as a fly or a bird

And face strong waves to your boat