Tuesday, November 15, 2016

...gust

Clear. Yet the transparency is anything but
Moot, yet to dwell is what we do
Dubious, deliquescence… thinking cap
Tightening.

The low-lit surroundings perform well
The masculine components mingle around
When will a deeper voice plant his ass next to mine,
And dig into dialogue, befitting the night?

“...you gave me nothing, now it’s all I got…”

“..you asked me to enter, and then you made me crawl.”


“Love is a temple, Love, the higher law…”

“Carry each other, carry each other…”

Dreaming of expensive tastes
Reaching for my preference
Dropped- inedible.

Dark-red points, needling through fresh linen
Seeking elongated lines, to rustle the 2am gust
Into warm action.

“I can’t take my eyes off of you…”
“Just can’t take my eyes off of you…”

And so it is, the lonely water
The blower’s falter
The victory in denial.
Half of the time.

“...the colder water.”

I am swimming where I stand
Recognized by the safety of self
No bellicose potential hovering…

“This has got to lie down, with someone else on top…”

Fuck.
I am kept peeled,
Teased at the gate of my own garden.
Laboring in the ache of destructive needs,
Every fucking 28 days.

That journey, that egg.
That immoral, insufferable ‘beg’.

He shouts the adjective, long and loud.
“Crutch” remiss, in the crotch
“...fall upon your knees”

Breeze, rumored to have passed this way
Into the nose and out the nothing
Kept UN-quelled by the nature of starvation
And her ability to recognize ‘heat’.

My oh my, Tuesday won’t lie down.
10:18 pm

Dry hands drink.

Goodnight.

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