...I have known

The braying of atonement is echoing less
Whispers crack, their meaning- disheveled
Mannerisms revolt as imminent revisions confer in dialectical whimsy.

I am kinder in my approach to attaining 'touch'.

They struck a truce, my willingness and my inhibition
To align muscles in the stoutest way possible for success to unfold 'organically'

The bag is made of burlap- tough and clean
Fabric built upon the ages I have known,
Threaded with the potent charms of courage & comprehension.

I am no longer wandering into life as a 'lair of uncertainty'

I am saying 'yes' to the magic of current promise-
'Yes' to the company of warmth and kindness
'Yes' to the muse of a confident cadence, playing freely without the dictates of arcane form.

Softly Broken...

Most welcome, the tone of barely audible rustling
With the night air softly broken, slumber-some layers of strata disburse
Pulse, ejaculates as the unbuckling of function becomes disengaged
With panic in every fingertip, and crippling shyness stuck to each palm
'He' disrobes in the dark, and I want to slide away from my own limbs
And watch him make love to my body.

What method, tonight, will he warmly subject me to...?
Submissive, succumbing to every naked move
The demeanor here is fluid, excitement of the senses are longing to burst.

Leg-Up

The dedicated drivel is rinsing itself off
The plumes of another era are finding the tongue
For brightest pluming.. brightest preening
Jutting out in a confident array
Of empowered restitution.

I am owed of myself to walk taller in the day
And lean longer into the relax of my evenings.
Acknowledgement of endeavors pursued
In that 'slow and steady' theory, that I have remained true to.
The neck that strains to see the light, finally stretched in alleviation.

The necessity of reinvention has threaded itself loosely
Effectively rooting in to the damage I have known and harbored
And strengthened the echoed empowerment of 'what could be...'
In diligence and permanence, I reach for the stronger sense of self
A leg-up in my intention, willingness and optimism.

The Advent of Harmony...

Upload.

The burn, uploading slowly
Grounded in the roots of richly moistened soil
No layover needed.
Matriculated in the disbandment of all 'rules of engagement'.
The baby and the bathwater are better behaved.
Selfish notions of tunnel vision
Crack the monochromatic perception; there is life here
There is life and there is love.

Explore.

Exploratory paths are widening
As subtleties begin to roar.
Bright, rosy-warm skin cells are pushing forward
Bumping the grey coat of Winter to join the greyed ambiance of moments lost.

The advent of harmony cuddles my thoughts
As frequencies dilate and live-wires fuse
Verdant lands welcome clean feet upon blades of nourishing grass.
The motive here is that there is none.
Acknowledgment of the senses and their compensatory value
Bloat the vaults of satisfaction...

Comprehension gives birth to electricity
Whose energy charges all fuses in full.

The pocket of a well-kept secret, emptied.

Retrograde

Here there is light. Light.
Light carving softness into darkness
A quiet wave, lifting the heavier patterns of Winter,
Respite...tipped off the 'verge' and onto my shoulders.

Warm hands
Maneuvering in tedious display
Looking to follow the scent of something new
Laced with intention of old.

A past, woven in sinew with woolen thread
Sturdiness, structurally sound. Safe.
I want to hold the hand of a gentler option
Without the worried brow of suspicion.

The flow of untuned strumming
Whispers in fresh stages, alive in the glow of sound
The hush gains momentum..
Retrograde- spinning.

Once in Winter...

I can recall that once, in a time of snow- the flurries seemed to hold their space, warmly
From a windshield I watched the indecision of nature rule over me without pause.

There is a time to be thankful for all the things that we cannot control.
There is a time to take notice of the voluntary mechanisms that are ours to articulate, as well.

Hand and hand go the 'need' and the 'want'.

Acceptance is a burden, though filled with release.
I am powerless in this time of uncontrollable circumstances.

"If you are anything - you are a survivor".

And so I push on - surviving
Yearning to softly close the door on the cruelty of Winter and its crisp, shrill frost.