Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Not a kiss to tell of,
Just hot lust;
Aching to feel her
Lips, around-the-clock
The pheasant cries
as if it just noticed
the mountain.
From cosmopolitan, to nationalism;
For the world, for country.
For what is the world today
But a conglomerate of nations,
For what is a nation but apart of a world?
On a mish-mash, adrift through a vast nothing;
What a ride, what a whirl-
A mess of tribes infighting.
I'm sure the phenomenon is
Far wider-spread than
At any other time throughout history.
The want to have been born,
Decades or years before,
And I think it's easily attributable.
Inundated with knowledge
It is hard to come to some consensus
Among peers,
Likewise it is difficult
To be in a situation you'd rather not
Able not only to conceive
But receive, every scenario you could think of.
Many of which would be the least bit better than the reality currently ascribed
Sweat grips,
My teeth grit,
A symphony of groans.
Hot is the breath
That escaped my lungs.
Loud was the noise;
Rustles, creaks, moans.
Long did the hours draw,
Still coming to dawn.
When they offer you olives,
Rip the branch from their hands
And beat the fruit off.
The soil is ripe,
Right is might;
Who cares for leaves & petals to fall?
Anonymous, oblivious
To the person kneeling before me.
My head spinning,
Throbbing,
Weakness in the knees.
My heart racing,
Trembling,
Color flushing cheeks.
Darkness, heavy scents
Intoxicating.
Gripping the sheets
Next page