departure
                arrival
the climber
                 the diver
     the heat
                 the chills
     the beat
                 the thrill
         depth
                 moisture
        height
                 closure

Facing the wall,
On the edge of tears,
Only her shoulders speak.
Her right foot times the tension
Of the moment
In strained silence.

Across the way,
A friend, an adversary
Sits in shamed symmetry.
Her chin takes refuge
In her hand-
A hand that can’t contain the anger, the embarrassment, the fear.
A hand that hides the mouth that spoke too freely,
But now says nothing.

Bumble down the always halls
Awkward in the way they walks
Desperate in the way they talks
Gaze flings hundred miles per hour inside
The tower of intimidation
sweat gets regarded as a river
Floor by floor the floorboards wable
Claims it’s an earthquake
Not the inner mechanical failure
Mangling the last shred of sanity
Processes of a rabid animal
Brain quivers, spine soils
Not gonna die in fight or flight
Metal smears apart to the moonlit tapestry
Strewn across the pathway
Climbing up the rotting yellow walls
All but tumbling
Running past the train of thought
Faster than a bullet
Clings to his kryptonite
In hopes she will solve him.

I crave the touch
Of hands only his
But my only problem is
That i haven’t found him.

Shiny stars and clouds of dust.
****** tension, full of lust.
A simple touch ignites a fire
deep within my body's desire.
"Ignore the heart!" my body cries,
and set your worries to the side.
Nature does as nature calls
so slam my body against the wall,
and navigate my body-say.
Oh, please, fulfill my pleasures way.

I could feel the tension
I could feel all the blood in me
settling to the bottom, within my feet
my feet, now red, under pressure
pulling me down, I could not seem
to fight the weight that was
pulling me down, down and down

my feet now full, now red, like a bucket
full of water, ready to spill, ready to give way
my feet now ready to burst and set free
the tensed blood for once and for all

-Kaya

I just ache
to be touched by you
still swimming in heat
moist and quivering silently
beneath soft black cotton
but in those
fear-mongering moments

I can't move.

Like a statue made of marble
I ache to touch you but I end up
sitting there cold and lifeless
next to you on the bed
thinking of a million ways
in which to stroke you gently
but all we can muster together
is a few brushes of the hand
a head resting on a shoulder
a full-bodied tight squeezed hug
an awkward cheek kiss and

it's excruciatingly painful.

So much tension that builds
and builds and builds and builds
never getting anywhere.

I can feel it penting up in you too
through engorged pupils
shaking knocking knees
fidgeting hands
looks that aren't deadpan
but open and raw and swelling.

There are rises and dips
moments of eclipse
where you and I find comfort
in each other's arms
whether they be wrapped or resting
whether they be hovering just hovering

almost touching

we were almost touching.

Seeing your smile in the doorway
as I left

lanky frame in depth

an ache I cannot
escape

warming the cockles of this here mongrel heart

vast into infinity.

What a funny little cuddle jamboree!

It takes all I have

to control

each action sluiced

and sliced

into little round cubes

burnt by internal fire

soft ash dust

sparse windy air

pocketing my desire

for you in pieces

just waiting

for the right moment

to leap into unknown waters

feet first

so frozen and

the river could be cold

to the touch

but your skin is warm

and gentle

heat rising

searing my arm

tingling my senses

scrambling my brain

to mottled bunches.



I have too much



self control



(and it's eating me alive.)