Many times, I've dreamt of your Heaven; using my fingers to caress it and my eyes to see.

Now spread your legs and expose your world to me.

A whisper slips through the ether's sway,
A sultry secret to brighten his day.
A snapshot taken, a tease, a dare,
A playful reminder—no fabric is there.

Wherever I wander, whatever I do,
The thought lingers softly, deliciously true.
No lace to confine, no silk to betray,
Only the thrill of the game we play.

It's easy, it's wicked, a spark in the night,
A message of longing, of pure delight.
Through the lens, my confession, my silent decree:
I am bare beneath, and he's the key.

jesus frost.

dog attack.

sold bible
to bible
salesman.

made me sick
did the weakness
of mass
mailbox.

would be
bloodbrothers
instead I witness
them take
separate
*******
photos.

I am not smart about it.
it lives alone.

or dies maybe
surrounded by
those who
were not there
the man’s
men.

I want to capitalize
***, capitalize
on your two
ruined
entries.

jehovabeast & throng-
ophile.

want go
unheralded
as misanthrope’s
diary
of winter.

**** if
both sides
of the nose
don’t marry
while the mouth
is on
location.

lose a hand
swatting the neck
to get the swatting
done with.

then it’s church
the hotel
for church
goers.

some dads
get they
insides
bit
to bite down
on god.

I’ve been outside
and I’ve been outside
women.

don’t have a clue, army.

The ******* shot
And the down blouse shot

And the hidden spy cams

Placed in bathrooms
And bedrooms

This is the life
Of the ******

It was a sin
He knew this

But could not resist
As the women
Showered, changed
And had ***

He recorded them

In public parks
His binoculars
Followed their hands

As they reached down the pants
Of their lovers

His binoculars
Followed the hands
Of their lovers

Groping and fondling them
******* them too

This is the life
Of a ******

Labeled
A "Peeping Tom"

Just because of his
Natural human curiosity

i have to admit, i hate writing these
sort of pieces,
   they're akin to a song that sticks
in your mind - you keep humming it,
whistling it while walking
down the street in moon,
   sometimes an impromptu strut
interruption is your feet taking to the beat...
but, it just happens,
   like the german ettiquete concering
burping while drinking beer:
the louder? the better; filfthy animals,
but i have to admit -
   keeping a **** from full a-bomb release
is one thing, hard, i know,
but trying to yawn with your mouth
closed? a theology teacher will spot it,
and give you detention,
because you yawned with your mouth
closed, during the lord's prayer
before class: well, that's catholic school
for you... my, the lord is so forgiving;
i was tutored by one of his cronies,
   i'm not exactly excited or in need of want
to meet their godfather.
anyway... sponges...
   i sometimes listen to these political commentary
videos on you-tube...
as you do... what was it?
ah: black pigeon speaks...
   ******* & creep-shots... girls in yoga pants...
everything that doesn't look
as rigid as an envelope on an a woman...
there's a tactic in it...
   girls their age are already thinking
psyche-chess, guys their age?
   imagine winning a 100m sprint with a hard-on...
o.k. maybe not the 100m,
no oxygen, no blood to the muscle
superior...
                   they get to breathe at 800m
right? so imagine winning an 800m contest
with a hard-on...
    and there are two tiers in this affiar,
the girls that have this instinctive affair of
beauty, and become natural mothers,
   and they're the ones giving the guys
a hard-on, and scoring poorly in "intelligence"
tests...
    it's one thing for a man to find
his mind, yet another for a woman to find her
body...
            i believe in grammar schools...
or maybe not...
      who was the genius who thought about
the anti-buddhist middle path of grammar
schools, say, the ursulines of ilford,
or the ilford county high for all boys?
and people become worried that muslims
segregate the girls from the boys in a mosque...
huh?
      so why are women smarter...
they have the scouts, the ones that disorientate
the men who quickly build up an immunity
to intellectual endeavour,
   and are stuck in playing actual chess,
                 than ******-hormone chess.
that's part one, part two, i've heard this story
a countless times, by atheists...
  how the ten commandments are silly...
looks hardly any bit silly, given hearing the news
of how man is "competent" with crafting
laws... notably the socio-political commentary
regarding taking photographs...
  the c.i.a. is still looking for the babushka
enigma, who took photographs of the j. f. k.
assassination: real close up.
        why are the ten commandments silly?
isn't the law of man a bit more sillier...
what's the number, in the ratio of 10 : 200,000+(?)
laws?
never mind, accounts like this are always
exhausting to muster,
  but they have to have a punching-bag's
worth of a blank page...
    otherwise they turn into tape-worms,
and you "regret" not having your two-pence
of opinion of the discussed topic...
and as honesty goes,
  the opinion is fleeting,
   it's not rigid, it's not firmly worth carrying
toward the next day...
       in these scenarios the butterfly effect
comes into play...
the opinion lasts for about 20 minutes,
   elsewhere there a torando that lusts for
many people, and about 2 hours worth of
the whril...
               doesn't the dialectical approach
simply mind the rigid in opinion -
the opinari hereditas (hereditary opinion)?
or does it also mind the opinari facere
  i.e. fashionable opinion - i.e.
               in plain sprechen, simply being
opinionated?
     you have to admit, that both mediums exist...
i'm beginning to think that socrates
attacked the former,
                     because the latter is beyond
the effort for consideration,
   since it's so transient, so fickle,
so much of a res vanus, so much of a sponge,
so much of acting, faking, lying,
        there's no dialectical approach to
opinari facere... as seasons change,
                      so does the fashion of opinions.

*******, this 27 year old,
flirts and is so bold
On a train to a destination
She leaves me warm and not cold.

Cheeky flirt as I can't resist
I wish now to see her *******
Her legs are kissable perfect
This journey was ******* worth it.

She magnetizes like a magician
without a cost of admission
Every time I can't resist a stare
She giggles with personality fair.

Her light blue ******* of motion
as her legs won't leave me alone
Its like a **** shop of adult dreaming
But she has me stitched in her weaving.

A good feeling for over this lassie
**** good with ****** *****,
She asks me to exit the next stop
and she finalizes the spinning top.