Soaked...

Trustless are we, quaint in what we think we know.
Knowledge, amassed - or is it? Maybe it's more a gesture to protect
Protecting any part of who we are, in any way that we can,
Because the slander from strong words serves to cut away more than fat
It cuts into bone and marrow, into nerve-endings soaked in sensitivity.

'Eventually...'

We, we are powerless for all our forewarning.
We move according to what our deepest attractions will allow
We are hungry, made of appetites built to feed.
We will eat when elbows rise to push hands into skin
Skin that beckons, '...be mine...'

Fingertips forming fire
Fusing full frontal
Forgiving foreign foreplay
For freeing what has been long-locked
Locked into the deprecating land of spoiled limbs.

Limbs, licked long
Love, limber, lingering
Lavished, longingly, loquaciously
Luminous actions advance without doubt
Now is the time to come clean and say yes, yes to this place of fresh invitation.

Who are we to question intuition?
Who am I to doubt what I know to be true?
Who put the brilliance of youth away, fearful but willing?
Who was I Friday, pretending to forget that I could recognize that familiar beast?
Today I breathe deeply, for things I had forgotten that I now feel, returning.

Energy - living, breathing, ready
Excitement -  building, moving, waiting
Engaged - pointing, revealing, chosen
Evaporating - shameless, connected, agreeing
I am allowing the interlocking of new shapes to form, riddles- get in line

Heat, harboring hardness
Hand-holding, hoping, heaving
Haste, hollowing, haranguing
Heard, hesitation... Here.
Overcoming dusted ball & socket joints, to open and say,

"Hello"

and

"Yes...eventually"

"I am headed your way"

A.E.I.D.S.

Hand in hand, go the doubt and envy
Into the dream of what nightmares are made.
The lusted trust snapped vigorously away
Robbed, but of what..?
Something, I suggest, was never really mine.

I want to scream, so I do
So fucking quietly so as not to disturb the Peace
The peace of an unsettling sleep-scape
That lingers long into the waking world
Into the sea of difficulties that I designed

This pattern is aged, tasteless, rife with burden
Yet I infuse more of its crooked vulnerability
Sucking in the dysentery of what I know to be intolerable.
Oozing in a vat of chilly, prick-filled impotence
Grabbing useless heat that darts closely to tease

Fucking me between the eyes with vibrant glee
This teasing, this dreaded fucking taunting-
This cock-sucking willingness has turned my mouth dry
A tongue, wagging away from the opportune time
When the taste of an erection would've gone down so good.

Who the fuck did I think I was, readying my wares for spoil?
Foolish, inconsiderate, weakened at the knees..the nose..the heart
Auto-Erotic Immune Deficiency Syndrome has screwed me again
Without the benefit of bearing the brunt of its pummeling
I want to sweat through these dilemmas, weighted down the right way

To get fucked this hard without relishing the soreness through memory
Clowns the heart, clouds the mind, crowns defeat,
Punishing willingness and optimism for the wind in their sails.
Rip away the Velcro bulls-eye from this box, this box, that for a time-
Considered and suggested that making love might have been the answer.

 

Bewitched

Bovinity.
In the interest of thickness
Memory is relaxing
Remembering good cause to get naked.
The muggy-warm air is bewitching me.
Bananas can't even be eaten without remembrance
Of times - profuse, though long gone.

5 Questions...

The delicate motif of love, unraveled. Could it be a blessing in disguise?
Unraveled in which way,  would the blessing be best suited?
Both points be argued with vigor; predisposition yields indecision, and for now
The wily heart- untamed.

And yet- who is tricking who? The Lover, breaking the fighter?
Or the fighter, knocking Love away from its senseless throne?