Laura.  She tempts me much to self-abuse,
The sin of which is truelove's evil twin.
I regularly sin by giving in,
Making a sock of fresh banana juice.
I struggle to resist, but what's the use
When future me is certain to begin
To fug himself (much to his own chagrin)
Thinking about her headlights and caboose?
The walnuts swell upon the walnut tree
That stiffens thick with slimy syrup-sap.
Her apples call my name.  They're teasing me.
The hardwood grows with vigor in my lap.
I burn to plant my seed deep in her V,
The garden of her earth, then take a nap.

Humid air
middle of the summer
every dog and child happy to be outside
surrounded by hippies and
cheap speakers playing rock ‘n’ roll
along the river in front of us were small ferries
I can't remember what I did yesterday but
I recall the feeling of when I first saw you
turning around slowly to glance at
who I didn't know
will spend the rest of my life
dancing in the back of my mind
there
was the woman whom I didn't know
will always I desire
the very, only wanted one
never will I ever have.

Skin on skin,
Fingers interlocked,
Hair cascades down,
My stomach tied in knots.

Breathing grows heavy,
Anticipation runs high,
When I caress you,
The most rewarding sigh.

Your eyelashes flutter,
Brushing against my cheek,
Eyes closed in surrender,
No words we need to speak.

I trace constellations
Across your beating chest,
Each quiet inhalation
Sings my worries to rest.

You pull me closer still,
Hands settled at my waist,
Time slows to a hush
In this sacred, silent place.

Locked within this embrace,
I fear making the wrong move-
A connection so unexpected,
This beautiful moment with you.

Good-bye
to nightly
rest,
take a bite
of this pizza
that has
my toppings
and my centred
oozing cheese.
Wraps over,
all the vegies
and the bacon,
pineapple,
the biggest
part of me.
Juicy and sweet
collides
with the salty,
of the beaches
of such ladies
in bikinis.
Wrapped up
and the lust
tests our devotion
and respectability
How it pushes
against appetite
for devourment.

background chatter of white noise,
the pride of the photo in a wallet,
a gentleman's removal of a ring
for that trembling of a fling.

The clinging of the glasses,
the skin of the lasses,
Escape from kids' screaming
No *** at home with the missus.

Hotel rooms with the mistress,
fills her with promises,
that will never come to be,
Only ever rarely.....

sometimes i wake
from a fever-dream
spent with a mystery being –
evaporating too quickly
to savour
leftover feelings,
and hidden benefits
of a midnight affair
with someone
that doesn't exist.

when the day
is half gone,
i'm still lovesick,
incapable of
stopping my mind
from hoping
there’s a button somewhere
to hit re-wind.