Flytrap

In this house the subject of you- a flytrap to my temples.

I wrote of boys in recent history and the intro posed, was, 

Of you? Without discerning elements, who knew?

Intentional, if I know me... blotting out themes that refuse to rest.

The queue consists of high level interest, of that, you still must be.

Annoyed, really, that some part of you continues to T-Bone thoughts.

Even now, the will to edit, swells. 

Clean breaks, they are delicious.

They provide a landing mat for resuscitated musings to lie still

To draw them back into dormancy so that true memory can form,

Inducting useless connections into the archive of 'then'.

Go quietly now, into the night, allow yourself to be led to this place

Where the life of your choosing splits sharply and with finality, a closed door;

Thus considering yourself as 'moved on'.

Music

Nostalgia of this 80's playlist

Is lubricating my mind

To elaborate on themes that I adore

Strong memories of the back of the class 

Neck, shoulders, hands... warmed.

Reunited.

Decades deep, I think we knew

A time would come

When the convection between Us

Would grow, blaze, and glow

For the rest of our lives.

History is no contest for the undecided.

Time and attendance, proven.

The real estate occupied in each to the other

This Permanent Residency,

Will always make

The most sense.

Man

Infrastructure of Mankind

Is, Man.

On the back of Man

From the strength of Man

To the hands of Man

The world formed. 

Man as the Protector,

Builds the tough interior. 

Man as the Lover, 

Brews confident families.

Man as the Caretaker

Breeds innovation. 

Man as a Companion

Forms the perfect complement, to

Woman. 

Tender Belly

Opening to make whole, holes long empty

Relinquish private spaces to hold audience to one

To inebriate time with lusty candor

Hearing words that flow, familiarly

In ways that cannot be replicated.

Thickness, explored

Hands, filling

Sumptuous bellies, meet.

Sweet, sweaty friction

Dripped into bellybuttons

Swimming in salty perfume.

There is a serenity felt here

In the care of kindness- devotion, divulging.

Push in to fill that last pocket of lonely

And gyrate wholeheartedly,

I have been waiting long for those 9 digits

To traipse every inch of 

Me, tenderly.

...wildness unlocked.

The wind blew, I listened without taking note

The flat land ate memory as I drove, script- expiring.

Itinerary has been whispering of detours, and I prepare

to obey.

Landscape unfurling within ridges of grey

The matter maps new paths.

Dry brush soothes as the whirling dervish protects its wildness.

Warning of blindness if one were to wander there,

Amidst unnamed lands and virginal stones.

Only the unwoven are welcome, to chart nothing but the memory

Of soft, wild life, unowned. 

Nature's voice is aromatic effervescence 

Licking the nape with tendrils of silent soliloquy

Never to be repeated, only loved in their maiden voyage

As they pass in and out of open palms, that seek to feel meaning

On unborn plans.

I lay in thought, upon reclined offerings

From a source I have not once doubted,

Tantalizing the feel of all I suspect...

'Erotica, reverberate

Implode my desire and then

Ricochet, infinitely...'

As pieces of my lifelong puzzle return to me

I lament less each day, acutely aware

Of the warmth headed towards me.

Didier

Dark sky storytelling

In the wide open chamber of nature

My best friend and I, complete.

BDC

Time and space, dissolving

He steps towards me with intention.

Light pervades and laughter fills

The halls are now lit with euphoric potential.

Time inconsequential as the swallowing of the last decade,

Belches. Entering us into new eras

Where light and dark meet, and, warm tones exude.

Two names, two voices, two revelations

This twist is 37 years in the making.

Didier, je t'aime.