"homaged" poems
fixation forces your
nails to carve my back into
an abstract painting of
the way your breath
holds my face in it’s grasp,
the way your
legs tighten up as they
clash to mine.
your eyes tell stories
of how your
hair wrapped to my
fingertips pulls your head
back with eyes
blank, storylines
consisting of
the surfaced portions
screaming a crimson
cry to the hands that
caress your throat,
bearing the heat
of the constant
conflict between
your skin and mine.
whispered screams of
wanted foreshadowing
allows for bodies to
convulse at signs of
complete puncture,
vocal chords tear at
points of ******
a sudden ******
shudder bringing vibrations
to the very being pushing
your walls
to a sexually climaxed halt.
teeth tear a chest to a skins
stretching point,
the blood
dripping down
forefront is
the morning dew
falling off an abandoned
bed frame,
tangible exhales
hit the walls,
the walls that house
the sweaty palms of
your hands as the consistent
tremors vibrate
the bed posts, expelling
tedious creeks.
waves of warmth
clash to the walls as
my fingernails
find a homaged
home amidst the
warmth of your arms
followed by nothing more
than a shared laugh and
sudden heavy breathing
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC
I've walked
The flat lands
Of Alberta
And ascended the foothills.
Near the doors of France
I've approached the caves.
Crossed the Channel
And homaged
The chalk altar
Of Dover.
Looked skyward to
The Dome,
Thought of creation
Across the blue
Michael knew,
And raised
A finger.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC