Her titillating tattoo
tantalizes me deeply,
to the tenth degree. I see
it as I slip her silk dress
slowly down her left shoulder.
A lizard lying on a
boulder, contrasting with her
silky smooth soft snowy skin.

I kiss her shoulder, and she
shudders and sighs a deep sigh.
Goosebumps rise up her body
as a sturdy gust seizes
the moment. The forest we
make love in quakes and shakes
as she shivers and quivers
under the touch of my hands.

My left hand holds her upper
arm, while my right grips her hips.
She closes her eyes, smiling,
giggling in amusement.
I spin her slowly ‘round, and
look into her hazel eyes,
her soft ******* and thighs against
mine for warmth and gentle touch.

I kiss her lips. Strawberry.
And we slide down to the ground.
The scariness we have found
slips away in our grace. We
sinners share our shame, our lust,
and come to a conclusion,
and bust each others doors down,
sweet ****** on this cold ground.

It came upon the good doctor to clutch it in his palms
An object so sharp that blood oozes over its tip
Touching and clutching it he weeps tears of excess
Excess of the desire from where emerges life

Nothingness is the very excess that flows beyond being
Beyond the infinitesimal horizons of cosmic pleasure
The devil at play beyond the confines of the mind
Language the immanent trap that infinitely failed

Moving beyond the pale meditation of holy dignity
Gods emerge from the midst of haunting madness
The excess of the gods, divine excrement turn into dust
The sweet aura of the banished god- the scavenger

The very life of the gods contained with death and play
They danced across spaces, traversed beyond scope
Their bodies decay as stars while their excess reaches within
Within every marked desert of intoxication that grasps infinite depth

Weeping in the midst of the great gulf, the gods fade as the night
They emerge as beasts and flowers amidst the deep of the sea
The fall into madness, excess, passion and excrement
Perfume is but the odour of man turning into dust

Even the glory of the gods reflected divine excrement
Every entity an extension of another, the cosmic essence
That binds and destroys life as movement unfolds beyond reason
The essence beyond the shared catastrophe that binds life to itself

The good doctor watches the blood ooze from the body
Blood being the testimony of immanent frailty which traumatizes being
His tears dilute his blood as trauma sustains life
It falls into the ground and the divine fruit is born

The essence of goodness contained within the germ of madness
Madness that tantalizes the notion which shames reason
The realm of divinity where infinite wisdom dwells
It dwells in the midst of bliss- Ananda !

The God of Bliss awakens as the stench of being enters the heavens
The creator weeps as he watches the excess of heavens multiply
The object that the good doctor possesses drives him into oblivion
Never more is the world haunted by the gods !

Bliss even the bliss that is found in the mountaintop
Where the last god lay and washed his feet with perfume
And the milk of the divine yak nourished the heavenly nymphs
Charged with ****** excess, paradise lay in the midst of hell

The good doctor returns to the womb from whence he came
Beyond the confines of trauma, desire and being
Every creature watched as he lay the world bare and nacked
Never again will the gods return to plague the world

Then lie the bodies, cold, writing in pain and pleasure, leaning on love
Bodies that desire the gods of old to sustain trauma and jouissance
Where is the good doctor now? Whence will he return my love?
And there in her eyes, the beauty of the world lay

I looked at her and in an instant her eyes transformed reality
Oceans swept the depth of the horizons, stars became angels
Time turned into eternity and the darkness ebbed into nothingness
Trauma was rent apart and life was bound by divine love

I kissed her lips and as I wept I beheld the good doctor
He lay dying in the depth of the traumatic vengeance
His organs lay in the excrement of totality
His eyes gauged out, his ears rent apart and his mouth torn asunder

His limbs were scattered and his intestines emptied
The years of his life at an end and his body dismembered
Disseminated, the stench of the lifeless corpse filled the universe
I looked at her and it was the stench of love

I looked into the heart of darkness and I wept
The sound of my anguish filled the halls of time and space
The pillars of paradise was torn asunder and rent Hades apart
Eternal sorrow that sustains our love

And then as I beheld the futility of existence I kissed her lips again
I closed my eyes and I experienced the touch of the heavens in her mouth
And in the infirmary  his body lay among the dead
His organs burned as a sacrifice to atone for existence

Existence, trauma and excrement echo the cry of divine justice
And here the body lay without its organs and we were too sorrowful was beyond measure
We then buried his cold body under the stars in the heaven
We saw the scars from where his organs were rent asunder

A corpse contains the testimony of death as he gather everything to himself
But a corpse without organs? What does it contain?
Must it not contain death and trauma itself?
And here his hollow body lay, and death the parasite

A parasite's life lies in the life of the organs within the body
When the organs cease of give life, the enemy perishes
And death lay dying in the grave he decayed
The good doctor lay in the realm of darkness forever !

The blood and his tears have now produced fruit !
It was its fragrance that brought life to darkness
In the darkness of the night my lover went into the grave
Fearing not what lay in the midst of the darkness

Wind is the master of time, she flies beyond the medium that she animates
The wind carried in her ***** the fruit of blood and tears
And then she saw that the keeper of the dead leave the confines of his realm
The wind blew beyond measure into the land of the living

And then I kissed her in the graveyard one last time
For she was too sore to live but her eyes spoke one last time
And there I saw the good doctor was not dead ! He smote his foe in the deep !!
His fruit was now beyond the grave where they lay him !

The hollow of his body is now the testimony of love and eternity !
And there I awoke from my dream and my heart skipped a beat !
My desire was water was now beyond measure and I looked into the river
In the sky I saw that love is the very excess that engulfs desire !

The haystack is the needle and the iceberg is compact
Scions of attrition tremble before the contract
Jaundiced world-weary tears lament the frailty of days and the evanescence of years
Senescence a cruel destruction, distracting garish comfort escorting the fears
Displaced and forlorn love beckons a second chance
Itinerant hopes know no commitment to simple embezzled parlance
Of dice and kin, nepotism’s high-roller antics are the linchpin
Frittered patience staking its bets on internecine dynamics of skin
Affirmative traction of disenfranchised hopes rests on fallow seasons
Traduced mirage tantalizes until the activation of regaled treasons
Shock wed with dismay appoints the tutelage of prestidigitation
Juggled triage aborts an unborn reason and anoints intimidation
Aliens flummox the borders to enlist a new world disorder
Trailblazers succumb to lawlessness and for every dollar gained we lose a quarter
Chaos checkmates as power rests from decrepit hands foisting the meretricious brand
Cattle scorched and sheep scattered as the broken hourglass can no longer count sand
Time toppled serenaded by applause canned
Toppled pyramids blind the eye of providence in the hour of unheralded prominence
The terror of history unfurls the efflorescence of piracy as ghosts work to subvert the invisible hand
Next dictums emerge that say supply on command, and entropy desecrates the land
Phone home to arm the putsch, clone home for aliens we push
Revisionism subverts the instruction of years and empowers the apotheosis of fear and the fourth ***** of George W. Bush
Dynasties envy the anonymity of a bald-eagle cabal of skinhead guffaw
Irascible genocide cavorts under the premise of shock and awe
The lullaby of morons is flinching assent to the supremacy of the unelected and unassailable tyrants
Discarding covenants on the principle of principality and counting on every knight to become errant
Pyrrhic victory of the perverted cross corrals the flock
Openly announced secrets enable the aliens to dock
At the port they are greeted as the victors and granted not only amnesty but indemnity
They brandish the unprecedented concept of an enumerated infinity
To amuse the zero-sum victory they author a new history of utilitarianism dethroning deontology
To the future readers they make contrite apologies
But when the races of men are annihilated by the evil Zen boasting of its utilitarian ken
The rubble of time cannot ascertain exactly how or when
But on the dreaded hour the virus will conspire to elect the most reproachable power
When panic reaches crescendo all the sugar in the world cannot but help to taste anything but sour
Abort the tyrannical machine no matter how convincingly it preens
No matter how much bunkum elevates the enchanting prevarication while concealing the affairs behind the scenes
Voting for balkanized splinters designed to weather the winter sustains the monopoly of sophistry
Ballyhoo saturates the airwaves and suddenly catcalling becomes gallantry
Tune out the pulpit, divest the culprit and impugn systemic venality
Dismantle the verisimilitude of shadows and hoist a giant mirror to reflect stark realities
Cue the curtains fall, the specters grow tall, and the clout is daunted by establishment doubt
The skeletonized truth severs the root but the behemoth armed to the teeth wages a bout
Cartels conspire with arms and fire and resurrect stodgy tenets to prowl like an army of vampires
To feed a fatuous superstition and to empower a censorship of convenience to enthrone a dark empire
Cunning preponderance enlists divisive shills to let the ghastly thriller exact its thrills
Occult obscurantism funds the vulnerable and tramples over the outspoken to actuate its will
Hopes dashed, stocks crashed and strife abundant
Generational dissonance revokes the incumbents
Chapter one of this unsung war come and gone
Stay tuned for the next addendum to see what is lost and who has won.

Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me.
I like to play a game called hard to forget.
Rose petal lips wish for your attention.
Attention: tomorrow you’ll wish we’d never met.

Lean a little closer, and just give in.
Bust through that barrier, blocking your desire.
Feel the radiation as you touch my skin.
Our eyes magnetize, signing a single contract.

Your stone-carved face fills my vision.
Hesitate for a moment, entertaining free will.
That’s silly. Dropping that was a condition.
Your mouth’s warm breeze tantalizes my lips,
but we stay stubborn still.

Always and forever. I wrote in pencil.
Veracity in my eyes; “Baby, I can’t lie.”
Touch. Spark. Ignition. This fire you can handle,
You think. I inhale, to let out a siren’s sigh.

It’s too late now.
The spell has been cast.
I’ve infected your present.
You won’t be the last.

You’ll never forget.
Kissed me kissed me.
Now you’re gonna miss me.

The sky is falling
                       with the New Moon’s rising tide
                       Amorous emotions are flailing
                       with rhapsody’s flooding desires

A fleshy sigh exhaled
the hot breath of carnal tensions;
the heat of a lightheaded fever,
arouses flushing skin,
igniting a yearning to savor
the bouquet of love’s
sensual coquettish dreams

                       Inraptured teases and tantalizes
                       anticipation’s lucid sensations
                       So close and yet so far away ,
                       as if a moonstruck hypnotic delight
                       were at the tip of fingers touch ,
                       from arm’s length away

Savoring the input
from all the heightened senses
Overwhelmed by a feeling
like being wrapped in a dream ,
choosing not to listen
to sanities' useless reality

                       Willingly surrendering to the dream - - -
                       to the verve of blissful mercy
                       Only while waking up,
                       embracing the thoughts
                       of passionate release,
                       do I feel the poignant pang
                       of my heart's song

longing to fade into you …

                        "dance me to the end of love"


**wilder

I cry your mercy—pity—love!—aye, love!
Merciful love that tantalizes not,
One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,
Unmasked, and being seen—without a blot!
O! let me have thee whole,—all—all—be mine!
That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest
Of love, your kiss,—those hands, those eyes divine,
That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast,—
Yourself—your soul—in pity give me all,
Withhold no atom's atom or I die,
Or living on, perhaps, your wretched thrall,
Forget, in the mist of idle misery,
Life's purposes,—the palate of my mind
Losing its gust, and my ambition blind!

Like snow,
a blank page tantalizes me
fantasizes me
luring me into the vastness of its grip
and asking
What will you do with this space?

But unlike Creators,
my art provides no function,
serves no definitive purpose
other than to sit in awe
and appreciate
the Art of Others.

It's hard -
I'm overwhelmed by the potential of
the unexisted,
by the grandeur of what could be
that I sometimes slip
forget
that I don't have to do anything with it;
I just have to witness.

That,
that space between
Standing
and
Wondering if peeing my pants is a work of art
is slick.
But as the place between
Stagnation
and Movement,
Sanity
and
Peeing your pants,
Grave is only achieved by Balance.

I, stand before him
poised in bareness;
his bristles, he dips
upon his palette to
color me, in passion
upon canvas

in artistic eyes;
his smile beckons
and unravels my
composure, eliciting
his brush to paint
hidden sensuality
in demureness

his brush tantalizes;
a flick of his wrist
dabs upon canvas
stroking curve after
curve, as if, caressing
my frame, the look in
his eyes reveals;
charcoal etchings
of his cupidity,
coveting lust

pantomiming
intentions upon his
canvas; his thoughts
flow from fingers to
brush, brush to palette,
palette to canvas; in
his mind's eye hunger
unfolds, as I, in turn
invite him to partake
of his artistic craving
to taste his own art
with each brush stroke
savoring my essence

Isolated in fear,
Horrendously alone,
Always thinking of her.

I was in love.

She tantalizes my dreams,
She haunts my days,
Always missing her.

I'm still in love.

Magnificent in every way,
Ordinary guy,
Extraordinary girl,
Always loving her.

I love her!

Unobtainable in person,
Connected in spirit,
Always remember her.

She is love... My love...My one...

And only love.
[K.D.P.]

the ultimate.
all and nothing simultaneously.
your pupils dilate when you see
her lovely figure on the inside of your skull.
she tantalizes your mind in the night.
with the little nibbles of her peace,
that serenade your transcendent taste buds.
those insomniacs who died a little within
wear it upon their skin as an
upside down flag and wait for her
calming breath on the back
of their goose pimpled necks.
when you breathe your final plea for her,
she comes to collect
that which she owns.
that's why we wear her
at funerals as a reminder
of the soul magpie
and the warbler who sings us
melodious songs of infinite tranquility.

I could run away with fear
but you, oh you, I hold so dear
so call me stupid one more time
and I'll act as if everything is fine.
I should have given up by now
but I won't let it go, no how
now, knock on my heart once again
and I'll be sure, so sure, to let you in!

I hate you.
I love you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
I love you.
You hate me.
You love me.
You hate me.
You hate me.
You love me.
You hate me, babe.

I could walk away from you
and be okay, I won't be blue
because you put me through such ****
& you'll be lucky if you don't get hit
time goes by, but time won't fly
the spark that set the flame won't die
The fire tantalizes me
& then I get hit with the third degree

I hate you.
I love you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
I love you.
You hate me.
You love me.
You hate me.
You hate me.
You love me.
I love you, babe.

We are suffering today
From a disease called hypocrisy.
And it is the basest enemy
Of freedom in democracy.
It substitutes a dollar amount
For lives and souls and hope
And tantalizes the population
With TV, ***** and dope.

By the time the population
Wakes up and catches on
A new batch of crooks exist
The old got rich, moved on.
Every campaign promise
They will fail to deliver.
They will lie to your face
And sell you down the river.

Our women are widows
Our children are orphans
The churches want money
For larger pipe organs.
They wring their hands
Subject abortion to scorn
But, abandon them to penury
As soon as they are born.

They say they want nobody
To receive free ride Medicare
Then freely give corporations
Un-needed trillions in welfare.
The chant against big government
Is a perennial marching tune.
They’ll decide the kind of ***,
And have control over wombs,

The world is a place today
Where the dollar comes first
And the children of the poor
Are usually treated the worst.
We are suffering today
From a disease called hypocrisy.
And it is the basest enemy
Of freedom in democracy.

Mighty the muscle of unmerciful momentum
Taking names, keeping pace, rhythmic with the arms of father time
Back to rehash an ancient scribe just moments away
You can taste it
The blood of the forsaken
Dying a thousands deaths
Ravished by the beast
Whilst storms blow in from the east
With messages of pale horses and unrelenting fate
Demanding blood to cleanse the land and to burn the stakes
Fear tantalizes
Exhilarates
All the kings men take their place
and prepare to battle the cycles history incessantly recreates

I’m tired of watching.

Gaping at this cinematic reality as it slowly sinks into my sensitive skin like hot rocks on a not-so-relaxing Sunday morning.

Disappointment after disappointment, I tap my foot with impatience, awaiting a ship that never docks, yet instead, tantalizes me as it nears the harbor but changes its course midway.

I’m limp, dangling over the wishing well in my bathroom that swallows as I heave; attempting to rid my body of all my pathetic hopes and expectations and watch as they are flushed down the toilet.

You are a dagger and I have closed my eyes, preparing myself to die; allowing my flesh to surround your malicious blade as you pierce agonizingly through my shattering heart.

I am (or was) a majestic sailboat and you are a bulwark placed dangerously in my path, resulting in a complete wreckage causing my sail to sink miserably to the bottom of the ocean.

Tired of seeing.

Watching each face blossom with happiness as my stems overflow with jealousy; I stare at the reflection of my forlorn face, painfully plucking each of my withering petals and allowing them to fall to the ground in defeat.

Feeling my chakras disintegrate as my large intestine absorbs my heart that melted at the sight of your hands entwined with ones that aren’t mine.

I’m suffocating, gasping for air as I hug myself until I am strangling my waist, searching for that comforting lungful of compassion.

Tired of noticing.

Releasing my last breath, I let go. Allowing my body to be consumed by the numbness that started at my heart as it froze.

White chocolate suicide
This drizzle’s ****** ***
Hard whipped, it tantalizes
Steals air from her lungs

Five scoops of velvet flesh
Slight hint of cherries, bruised
This pleasure grows amidst
Flushed cheeks so rosy hued

Toss in a little cyan-dye
Sweet taste of passion blue
If dessert could ****, she’d die
To savor something new

It’s time to take a bite
Before it melts away
Might just take all night
It’s kidnapped her days

Searing as it warms her thighs
Wintry as it chills her bones
Soft-shell too hard to hide
Each taste’s a lustful moan

What’s better than her sweets
Covered in delightful gems?
Unparalleled this frozen treat
Even to her thoughts of him

© 2014

We sit and we wait
For what we know not
It has no name or form
But each of us waits

We're sure it's what we want
But is it really?

It comes for a few
And they are overjoyed
We watch them leave, and we wonder
Have they found happiness?
Was it worth the wait?
Will it come for us?

And still we wait
Believing it will come for us
And we will dance with it always

Love
Is what we wait for
And it tantalizes us with its nearness
Laughing and dancing just out of reach
Our fingers slip and our grasp is not firm
And it scampers away again
Only to tiptoe near as we're about to give up
Leaning down to whisper in our ear

"Don't give up.
I'll come for you.
You just have to wait."

But love is a tricky being
It conceals and decieves
And waits for us to believe

Waits for us to fall head over heels
For us to smile and laugh
And for us to give our hearts

And when we do
Love steals our hearts and keeps them for its own

And so we sit and we wait
For what we now know

Its name is Love and its form is stolen hearts

I can't look at you
'Cause your beautiful beauty
Tantalizes me.

My stomach grumbles, as do I
saying "I'm done, throw this away."
Shoveling a picked apart parcel of pulp,
placed pleasantly in front of me paces previously,
back into the bakers basket

All I could do was try to taste this treat,
as it constantly tantalizes my taste buds
I reach a treaty with Me each day
again I say
"I'm done, throw this away"

Then again, it will probably always whisper
from the waste basket
so maybe
it's okay for me to love just the voice?

So
Maybe
it's okay for me to love
just the crumbs?

Maybe
it's okay.

No, no no
It's okay
"I'm done
Throw this away"

Sexuality is not a ***** word.
It is the essence of our being
It tantalizes our skin
Seeps out of our pores
And sets a flame to our existence.

The way we express it
(Or the way some of us do)
Is what separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom.
Majority of people are able to display it
In a vivid and imaginative way
So that they can connect with another person.
And I am not simply talking about ***
Although that plays an integral role
But romanticism as well.

Love is a human experience
It spreads from person to person
Radiating from each like their own individualized ball of light
It is theirs, and only theirs
Until they decide to share it with another
So they can spread this tiny orb of sunshine
And illuminate someone else's world with it
As it has brightened the beholder's.

So why do so many people
Think it is fit to rob the ones
Who, in terms of romantic preferences,
Are in the minority
Of this beautiful luminosity
That blots out all of the hate, violence and anger in this world
Even if for only a split second?
Yes, I'm talking to you, Conservatives and bigots alike.

Who are we to tell other human beings
That they do not have the right to love
The way we do?

Dear So-Called Religious Christians
Who believe that gays, lesbians, bisexuals, pansexuals
You name it
Are abominations:
Stop playing the very God
That you claim to be following.

your two eyes worship some evening farther sky
than the four winds around us, breathing with our sighs
perfumed taste tantalizes, in metered measure
as waves of warm skin rise, toward strong pleasure
only where the sacred kiss touches desire;
hunger where your quickened heart ascend even higher
as my lingering love gives voice to your song,
waves lapping restless shores, all night long:
then a still, white dove lies, with entrancing smile
underneath the sly moon's beaming magic wiles.

Creating a new poem is like creating a new story
a new paradigm from the depths of history's bowls
from a nightmare, we are to create a dreamscape
something that tantalizes the soul, and draws us near
to the greater perfection within ourselves... who knew?

Creating a new poem, much like a new society
has to start from within, and be drawn out somehow,
and some will be more inspired than others to invent
their own approach, to instill their own values,
to be critical enough to recognize what is most sacred

Creating a new poem demands the ability of the artist
to take hold of his or her feelings, thoughts, and intuit
the flow of consciousness in just the right cadence
remembering the song of ages that goes and flows

Being the poet that you are, your heart is stretched and open
yet you are afraid to be as the caged bird: freedom frightens you!
And in creating your new, new poem, you would be as angels
singing from the achrimony of the ages, singing light and dark
good and evil: but remember god and devil are just a letter off both ways.

Creating a new world is like creating a new poem: if you let go
and just do it, the miracle will wash away the banality of a bygone age
and the new **** will be born as a rose red flower in flames
before the technocratic temple of bright lights and *******

Create a new art, artists, poets, and those average ager's
be a revolution in the heart, an evolution in the swing,
bring first the arrogance, then the confidence of knowing:
you are the master who makes the grass green: the universe in your eyes
the solar flare in your step, and change this world from a prison
to a paradise!

Create your new poem, and singe it like a caged bird!
Give your language the power of princes, without the pomp
believe in yourself and let go of the awkward moment you had
with the love of your dreams last night; create your new life
and transform this new poem into a rally cry for the poet class!

When the darkness comes, I am the light,
As uncertainty enters, I fill you with fright,
I am all you fear, as it boils inside, I am the painful trip you long to ride,
The pain and pleasure you only felt in c=dreams,
I am everything, or so it would seem,
Whenever you cry out in your sleep,
I ****** up your soul, for me to keep,
And just when you feel you cannot go n,
I will laugh, because you will know I have won,
When you are with me, time stands still,
I **** your blood, your life, your will,
I will anoint my body with your coppery heat,
I am one mistake you’ll not soon repeat,
Drawing out every precious drop in a ravenous frenzy,
Knowing your last ounce will bring me pure ecstasy,
Watching as all signs of life leave your eyes,
At this moment, you encompass ALL that I despise,
I laugh to myself as I savor your tangy salt,
As you wither and wilt, you know it is only your fault,
To watch your blood slowly drain and spill,
Each drop tantalizes my every thrill,
One last little drop and you will obey me,
You, no longer, are your own entity,
I will take everything you have to give,
If you are lucky, I may let you live,
Now you can finally begin to conceive,
My hunger only live to deceive,
You are a mere pawn in my ruthless game,
I alone hold the power to make you insane,
I am the one and only true master,
My name spells imminent disaster.

Tick tock tick tock
The melody of paint drying on a wall
The soothing sound of a fan humming

I sit and watch
People, places, and interactions
Seeing my self struggling

My mind and body numbing
To actions that need no intellectual background
Losing my mind in motions

Pitter pat pitter pat
The silence of my conscious
Listen to the little voice of doubt, in every thought

Numbed and yet severely angered to an absolute sadness
A hurt a burn and a pain
The only feeling that tantalizes me

Gasp gasp gasp
Stuck crying with furious tears
Dripping salt into my wounds

Gasp, tick, pitter
Losing every single emotion
To a vile of emptiness

Tick tock tick tock
The hum of my heart beating
Mixing with yours

Writing a lullaby
That’s words are unknown to either of us
But still cant get it out our minds

Thump thump thump
The number sounds dissipate
Your all I hear

feldspar conglomerate
pyrite flakes sparkle
basalt backdrop
…granted, the granite
is liken to a gneiss
but placed near the soap or sand
it stands alone without chip-ability
raw uncut opal sending prisms dancing
against the distorted garnet plug –
her ruby lips shown bright
against the chert and ashen
speckles of flint
diamond twinkles
fall from topaz tear ducts
land softly on an emerald blazer
adorned with ruby buttons –
****** at the rock show
I marvel and the marble
and experience simpatico with a sapphire
while the tourmaline tantalizes my taste buds
sending me reeling into a radical thunder egg
as the agates flew *****-nilly
I groped blindly for a brick to steady myself
but instead fell hard onto the concrete
or was it asphalt….
either way, I may as have well been tarred and feathered
dipped in oil
and sent to the borax plant –

there’s something
overtly ****** about
her

something about those legs
or those *******
or those eyes

but it doesn’t arouse,
no,
it mystifies
it… tantalizes
it makes you want
more and nothing
less

when she struts
into the room your
thoughts don’t turn
to ******* and
then sleeping
and then *******
again

instead you look at her
and want to hold her,
to lay with her without
ever taking any clothes
off,
to kiss her,
but in a sweet way,
not with hunger or
lust

something about her
screams the call of a
breath-taking woman

but you don’t want
that
you want something
else, which you cannot
fully define

there’s something
odd about her

something not quite right,
and yet
perfectly fine…

to you,
for now,
at least.