#quadrille
In indigo light, I dig for her soul's deepest paradigm, a
prodigy of desires, where dignity roots digest our unrepentant lust.
Why attempt to digress?
indigenous touch digs deepest—one digit
tracing fate's secret valleys, while time's digestion consumes this moment—
love, innocent—undigged.
Apr 22
Apr 22, 2026 at 6:20 PM UTC
Where does love go when the microburst snaps pines to dam my course
And swell the held water we once arched together into one?
I flow into dawn, an untamed, pulsing force,
While thorns stitch shut the bed where our silk once surrendered, unstrung.
Apr 19
Apr 19, 2026 at 7:34 PM UTC
—tactile echoes of rebirth
Bathed in moonlight, her breast bone yields beneath my fingertips—ancient earth.
Her breath unravels slowly, quietly aching toward rebirth.
Each pulse, a vibrato string I dare caress, to hear, to feel.
Mountains rise on the horizon—calling, my fingers answering what they reveal.
Apr 13
Apr 13, 2026 at 6:01 PM UTC
—there is no love without friction
We wander the rainforest of wet skin.
Each twig—love’s unfinished sonnet—found by light.
My fingers press a slow vibrato on her violin.
Our sighs crescendo, swelling in adagio flight.
Hummingbirds hover over feral hair—the color of rosin
Shadows gather—drowned, quiet.
Mar 11
Mar 11, 2026 at 6:04 PM UTC
You look into her eyes; inhibitions fall like silk to the moss bed.
Stripped completely bare, two breathless souls—no pointless words said.
Fate is an ancient hunger that demands to be fed.
Do you have the courage to feed it or cower instead?
Feb 25
Feb 25, 2026 at 5:57 PM UTC
She’s pretty—how much?
Soul-eater. Maybe? Giv’r a taste?
How much?
Prettier?
Maybe?
How much?
Perfect ******* ******** Ass—implants?
I wanna! How much?
Maybe—just *******
How much?
Faithful?
Divorce?
How much?
Perfection—too slow.
I’m late.
She’ll be ****** again.
Flowers—how much?
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 6:51 PM UTC
Our moon slips red—eclipse’s ****** shadow cups her breast.
She lies still, a fawn, beneath my tear-brimmed eyes.
Her breath—dream’s morning dew?—a whispered request?
Light turns slowly, touch between her parted thighs.
She moans a whispered song—arching, “come to me.”
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 6:21 PM UTC
My fingers vibrato, cello’s curve of your hip—
Her sighs answer, honest— a long slow bow.
Tuned flush swells— thumb dips,
Our love’s raw truth, adagio.
Ocean’s scent— bodies press,
breath syncs, a deep tremolo.
Our love’s pulsing truth confessed,
two strings rupturing— pianissimo.
Jun 16, 2025
Jun 16, 2025 at 7:00 PM UTC
Her eyes—Northern Lights—pulse aligns,
Violet, slow sway unseen.
Moon kneels, eclipsed beneath her thighs,
Darkness undone, her touch—unseen.
Her gasp—a solar flare’s gold rise,
Sky opens, raw, unbound.
Dawn’s first touch—her lips arise—
Sunrise I’ll chase, love I’ve found.
Jun 2, 2025
Jun 2, 2025 at 8:20 PM UTC
Needle poised, quiet stakes its claim—
groove’s canyon hums our throat’s refrain.
Hips align to revolutions’ frame,
stylus thirsts for our track unnamed.
Crackle swells like held-breath air,
pulsing bassline where silences pair.
Bridge unwinds—our bodies dare
to etch new music spinning there.
May 20, 2025
May 20, 2025 at 10:14 AM UTC
Your left claims my right’s rest—
knuckles hum, sweat salts the air.
Sharps snag—a tangle—undressed,
metronome skips our heart’s fanfare.
Breath clots where sighs arrest,
heel hooks what the pedal bare.
Skin maps chords upon our *******
Teeth script scores we swear.
May 6, 2025
May 6, 2025 at 9:30 AM UTC
Mercury climbs our glass spine’s rise—
Warm droplets tremble as nerves under tongue.
We name our barometric ache—enchantment:
each storm seeded where ******* pool salt rain.
Fingers tracing, exploring, deepening pressure systems
through our kiss. The glass hums.
Lightning fills the cloudless sky.
Apr 8, 2025
Apr 8, 2025 at 5:52 PM UTC
Moon drags her silver stylus—waves engrave sand.
Our bodies, hourglass, ride its sand.
Hungry tides carve sand.
Sighs press our secrets in the sand
Tidal pools whisper vows in sand,
then retreating waves unwrite sand.
Our love, rewritten as sand.
Dawn erases nothing.
Mar 24, 2025
Mar 24, 2025 at 7:08 PM UTC
Spring's chill morning, bald eagle's wingspan wide,
Whistling wind through wings —- hushed secret sigh.
Her gaze, a steel talon, grips my soul inside,
Reminding me of ashes of oblivion, now soaring in time.
Love will lift us stronger, future clouds where we'll glide.
Mar 9, 2025
Mar 9, 2025 at 3:36 PM UTC
Her lips, now draw so near mine—
static hums,
lightning sings,
my fingertips zing.
Our breath suspends in flight,
threads pulled oh so tight;
My hunger coils—
her taste, pure starlight.
Our flesh enraptures,
trembles nearly bare—
a storm unfolds,
surging ever slowly— there.
Feb 11, 2025
Feb 11, 2025 at 12:02 PM UTC
Unbuttoned allure, yet captivated - my eyes.
Skirt’s whispered secrets, eclipsed - my eyes.
Glances try undress, but locked - my eyes.
Lashes dance, words unspoken behind my eyes.
Storm in your veins, tethered - my eyes.
Your body, wealth, surrendered - my eyes.
Feb 5, 2025
Feb 5, 2025 at 5:36 PM UTC
A whispered caress in the dark, hinting at forgotten secrets, smoldering desires,
Moonlight breathes clues of their longing, finding shadows of unfulfilled desires,
Fingertips trace cryptic messages, lovers' code igniting searing desires,
Hearts pulsing in matching rhythms, unleashing raw, consuming desires.
Jan 28, 2025
Jan 28, 2025 at 7:07 AM UTC
The wind, a sly lover, lifting my silken dress,
I sway with abandon, revealing soft tenderness,
Wind, with lips so eager, tracing each subtle finesse,
With each rising current, my heated blush will express,
I surrender to breezes that stir my wild restlessness.
Jan 14, 2025
Jan 14, 2025 at 8:39 AM UTC
Her leaving, a bang of lightning striking a tree,
Exposing my raw soul for the world to see.
She was a burst of color in my monochrome world,
A single, vibrant flower, blooming while storms swirled.
My dam shatters; torrents of emotions drown me.
Dec 10, 2024
Dec 10, 2024 at 3:53 PM UTC
Naked, she stands,
eyes fixed, lips raised toward sky—
What if I’d taken the red-eye?
Blood rushes, falls;
knees meet ground, no bed at all.
She glides, a velvet chain,
tongue where sweet honey rains.
Her scent fills air’s swell—
my soul under spell.
Nov 13, 2024
Nov 13, 2024 at 6:56 PM UTC
No one explained that best before
was subjective at best.
Instead they suggested
that you were lucky to find a man
willing to settle for spoiled produce
so close to the sell by date.
Did it occur to you
the rot might be them?
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 3:32 PM UTC