The release; so powerful; sometimes to feel alive: all you need is a reminder:

His guiding hand:supplying the demands to the upper-hand, across her belly button, to forbidden; lands. Parted  lips, her pink folds;dragging his hands down. Working each other: we ain’t fooling around; our bodies, over time. Dripping wet with desire.

Her reaching back; she leaned back. Over the edge; of the bed. standing *****. Picture perfect; she’s holding her breath, as he’s kissing on her neck, her breast, focused on her ******, the left. Right in my mouth. Long ponytail, pulled to the left. She is wet, under there, her underwear - pulled to the side, exposing her underhair; shaved bare, under there.

Fingers wrapped around him. Looking hard, she found it; tugging on it. Him pushing his luck got her pressing her lips against him. Pulling his belt out of way; biting his lips, he’s tensing. She, kiss as she play. looking a certaining way; tempting how she tempts him. She’s over the top, and its so overwhelming.

She’s all touched, from touching it; so fortunate, her *******, soaking wet, juices flowing. Wet spots, he’s all over it. Exposing her ****; to his fingertips: with his index; ******* next. Started working her slow, building up to raw ***. Pressure building, rising her chest. She’s worked up; trying to get off. Giving it our best. Her waistline, being pumped from behind, so smooth; the finest wine. Unsatisfiable rhythm, keeping them inline. Holding onto her waist, he’s so online; bending backwards, pleasuring each other, every time. Some may come and go, but they come together every single time.

He’s feeling it: the way its feeling, feels so good - a burning sensation: her  tenderness subduing his manhood; all is well, so it must good. Movement, with quickness, once his hips shifts, its motion sickness. Stroking his egos, increasing his stiffness, filling her deep. She’s clenching him, tighten, tighter. The feeling of him growing, she’s feeling him insider. Their wet bodies, skins glistening in the their fire.

I've found you irresistible
these thoughts uncontrollable
our meetings so desirable
each emotion's indescribable
my lust unsatisfiable
your touch is undeniable
but I am unreliable
please- don't trust me

dead end people
you’ll try to satisfy them with all your love and support
but they’re trapped inside their own mind
fighting demons...
it’s impossible for them to be satisfied
but when the time comes... and it will... when they make you feel like you aren’t enough
you have to remember you were everything and more
this is on them
they’re being suffocated within
and you’re trying to hold onto baggage that isn’t yours
you will always find yourself empty with them
trying your best to prove something
when you should already know your worth
walk away
they can’t be your person
let them go
-h.u

-and so i spend my days without you,
pulling out my hair,
biting my tongue,
praying i never lose you permanently.  
darling, there's an unsatisfiable emptiness that gnaws away at the tissue inside my chest like an illness,
it beats on the backsides of my ribcages, and plays music against my spine.
but, when you're around me it's almost like your presence scares the emptiness away-
i feel myself again.
never leave me for this long ever again,
i think i'd miss you too much to function properly.

CRAVING
fill my empty void
With everything
With anything
Crawl out of my insatiable skin
For a moment of sweet relief
Teeth grinding, bite my nails to the bone tensing
CRAVING
suffer this want, this need
My raw, unsatisfiable
CRAVING

You are unsatisfiable unpleased and unhappy
Forever wandering
I’m done trying to be what you want
I’ve tried despite what you say

You may wander wherever you see fit
I won’t chase you any further
My heart has moved on to its next unattainable goal
Making myself happy

we all have shadows, for you see a shadow cannot exist on its own, it cannot live without a source to feed. so it attaches to those bright and full of love and it steals through toxic tongue and tainted touch every inch of light and every ounce of love it can, and it eats and it eats and it eats.

and it never ends.

the cycle goes on for years, for days, for weeks. sometimes one attachment is not enough to satisfy its hunger, and the shadow finds another, sneaking behind backs and through unlit back streets, slipping beneath bodies under messy white sheets.

until it finds what it needs.

it eats to feed an unsatisfiable hunger that’s seeded deep in its very soul. you see, a shadow is utterly empty. a shell of those around them cast upon pre-fixed forms, void of kindness and empathy, full of lies and false sympathy. only fictitious constructions of conned complex personality.

you may be convinced at first, you see, shadows are very well-versed with words, their honey-dipped hells and counterfeit kindness are nearly believable and you might even feel warmth for awhile. but shadows love to play tricks, manipulate your mind and play mischief on your eyes. dancing in the dark of the night in the darkest of hours, when the false is most easily believed, it’s not until daylight often we see the falsity revealed that we’ve been forced to perceive. turning pain into poetic verse, a shadow will twist and contort even the sweetest of words into a sweet mirage of manipulation to force you to see the lie they’ve created in the image of innocence.

they’ll feed off your good of heart and affection so sweet, and drink from the pools of light that you seep. and they’ll eat and they’ll eat and they’ll eat, until there’s nothing left and you’re completely empty. they’ll drain your soul and drop your heart and move on to the next, but keep your name for later use. because when love grows back and you feel full once more, a shadow will return again to reclaim its host and restart this game it’s since provoked. but then a shadow will slither and slip away, retreating to cobweb corners and feigning false pain, always finding someone else― you ―to blame.
but a shadow will never admit to its own darkness, for it’s convinced it’s awash in light, the epitome of kindness and love, that it could never be anything but the victim.

but it’s afraid.

because it knows if it takes one real look at who they are and what they’ve done, their self-conceived, perfect being will wither away and melt to no one.


― calling you a ghost would be wrong, for you see, even ghosts eventually go away.

Be all my sins
And all my wishes
Wrapped in one.

Your cold hand
Warms itself on me.
My jaw falls
Into yours.

Nothing opens wide enough.
Hunger hates itself.
Eats away at itself unsatisfied.
Unsatisfiable.

And he’s holdin’ on,
O he’s holdin’on,
And his lies are ready to burn him.

methods fettered, advantages and breaks
extended, insults and numinous presences of pagans crept
craven idolatry ascribable degrees of rivalry kept
intensified, superordinate to unsatisfiable desires and anorectic shakes
stigmatised, wishes leading to perpetual astonishment, quakes
caused, centuries for a variety of relations acknowledged accept
altered limits, bounds of appropriation are overstepped
and eliminated, forms of every truth from different takes
are completed, esoteric states, totally upheld
a verdict of ****** reasonable risks, general history framed
and shared, shares of fully repeated trades
are allocated, limitedly missed usurious beginnings unparalleled
in cruel relations with transient rules proclaimed
with theoretical ideas, properties of a black jade

I've heard numerous tales of the apocalypse,
each one depicting scenes
of crowds embodying all that is violence
and blood marking the territory
of the beast known as hopelessness.
They'll send chills through your body
as they detail corpses with unsatisfiable cravings
and rows upon rows of windows
with only dust and vacancy behind.

But in all the accounts of the cacophony,
never will you hear about
how softly the door clicked behind him.

When the screams are chronicled,
never once do they mention
the ones ensnared by my pillow
or even the ones that festered and died
within my very throat.
Expositions of the end of the world
will always fail to broach the benumbing air
that invaded this house that day
and the absolute silence
save for the hitching of my breath.
And while these stories may include
the monstrous shudders of the earth itself,
the trembling of my hands will always be more prominent.

Disguised in missing pages
Lobbed over the edge
With interests unsatisfiable by cold hands;
Forced to capitulation
By dubious pecking
Through delicate skulls.
A pair soul-mated
By dismissive wings,
Flapping through the nest and web
Meticulously sown to hold
A defeated mind
And soiled heart.

I whispered to my heart
filled with yearning,
“Be still”

Even if the curly ropes
of his hair
leaves you trembling
with an unsatisfiable hunger

“Be very still
dear anguished heart of mine”,
but as a leaf
I quiver
clinging desperately
by a bleak bough

For soon I’ll flutter
with the wind,
and fall down
along with my sorrows

As the fallen leaves
withered and loveless,
I shall crumble and disappear

A silent lake of my torments,
her silhouette drowning
in a thing we once called Love

A constant state
of an unsatisfiable hunger for her,
whom the poets called longing

The cigarette hasn’t left
my ugly mouth
ever since yours left mine

Now I cannot speak
without pouring
as a frightening  rainy night
I cannot love
without burning
my heart and yours
I cannot breathe
without gasping for your scent
I cannot think
without remembering
the meaning behind your name

And I cannot eat
without being consumed
by my unsatisfiable hunger

For you,
I starve