taller now, back straight

i wander

a stop sign glares at me, I halt

with no direction where can you go?

cringing I continue

the wind flies around my made up face

emotions buried beneath drifts of snow

a strut

a models walk. A show for no one

I breathe in, the air is filled with enticing love

my pussy begins to melt the snow as I walk

turning the sidewalk

into a rushing stream

of passion, of lust, of beauty

I am followed

by newly born fish

swimming in my own juices

they make patterns of jesus

I am their whore

their mother, their Goddess

my boots turn to fins

Road signs fade

and I dive

deep into the waves of desire

for those I once carried

now carry me

and my direction

is spread apart

like my legs

spreading her buttermilk tendrils to taste the world

dancing to the beat of pulsating hearts

gasping for air

connected piece by piece

bones are broken and lost

finally at home in love

speaking in crimson

sleeping naked truth

amidst ivory lies that litter our haven of comfort

serendipity blossoming

flourishing, and then dropping

like petals that can no longer believe in

themselves

this is life

this is love

this is where we belong

seeking its exit into the summer breeze

i wait,

for a friend, a love, a dream

the sun burns my eyes as i look for

answers, making them water

black makeup spills down my gleaming cheeks

as i squint, seeking  hope, seeking peace

begging to be itched, the poison reaches

for a kiss, a touch, a moment of being

what do you even look like? for i only see

you at night.

is your charm carefully hiding

the ugliness underneath your mustache hairs

the evil that rests in your loins…

are you like the poison ivy, that leaves

only remainders of pain and scars, long after

time has healed the wounds? similiar to the sun

which gleams in glory and life, but destroys

with its touch.

still i wait, and bask in the rays

of warmth, taking what i can

in hopes that it will heal later.

Your lips

Rest on your slender face

Moist and luscious

I want to touch

Every inch of unreachable you

I watch the drunks

Spill their drinks

And I am emptied

Hollowness leaves me with only

Your lips

Depth- like the sea, dark and wet-

Succulent like ripe fruit, in and out, thrusting, hard-

Fucking, always fucking, indiscreet, obvious-

Naked and wet, dripping almost rotted and bruised.

Chapped lips, under and above-

Squeaking like a dogs toy, plastic and rubber-

And wet, always wet.

Wrapped around the body like a snake-

Dressed down and proper, like the inner city, crowded-

Trapped in a glass like ice, and wet-

Dripping in the sun, slippery, like the fingers.

Bouncing like basketball-or breasts, lactating-

Milk, warm before bed, comforting and wet.

Biting, like fingernails, hard and tough, above-

The soft flesh, moistened, glistening with sweat-

And cum, reflection- like a mirror, jostling

Like balls in a hand, my own, myself. Self like

One individual, baked and brown, like warm

Bread fresh out of the oven, melted like warm butter-

Wet. Stained and dirty, like a homeless mans

Attire, drunk with desire, like a dipsomaniac.

Open window, like the soul, acquired, like taste-

Into the mouth, salty and wet.

Always wet. 

Last nights rendezvous

Bring headaches worse then the hangover

I should have

Nothing to cling to in these days

Of terror

Making a man of wax from

Burning candles

While those I love are away

How I ache to be away

Suffocating in my turtleneck

Of hatred

Insanity takes the place of boredom

Tearing at my skin

Ripping off my clothes

leaving marks that can only be

thought of as love bites

Kings capture the Queens

And take the place of parents

Children run wild and alone

Resorting to narcotics and sex

In place of a bedtime story

Condom wrappers are picked up

And finished with a bottle of Valium

MAY CAUSE DROWSINESS

Warning labels in our toothpaste

Give us satisfaction

Yellow #5 stains our teeth

While overage males ask for

Head in a crowded bathroom

Friendship, lies and flies

Through secrete handshakes thought up

On an acid trip

Techno music pulses through my veins

Taking the place of my heartbeat

Instead of cells I have rows

Of unfertilized soil

Staining my porcelain statue

Where is my muse?

 Did she saunter off wearing my favorite heels?

High on opium and whisky?

Perhaps it was cold sake and instead

Of exposing her ageless breasts to the gentle fall wind,

 Those perfect nipples were covered in a black sarong.

Melodious laughter echoing throughout the hallway,

Her light feet never even touching the stained carpet.

“Take the booze, you filthy whore,” I scream at her,

Throwing a glistening martini glass in her wake,

 “But leave me my art, let me hold onto my creativity.”

            There is only silence,

And the faint smell of raw oysters.

I sit lifeless, smoking with one hand

While the other fingers my dry labia, trying to invoke some excitement,

 Some source of pleasure.

            The smoke snuffs out the scent of the sea,

 And while my open pussy expels odors of secret love and magic gardens,

 I long for my muse to enter in,

 Smelling like the fish market on a Friday morning.

            I give up on trying to get myself off,

 And curse the bitch for stealing my art and my sex drive,

And I sit on the ivory toilet urinating.

 Scowling and thinking of the emptiness,

That even now my bladder with imitate.

Glistening minds reflect our light in the water that flows through our naked bodies

I drink deep of your mass, you soul, I smell the salted flesh you offer-to fill

My hungry appetite- a feisty gut aching for only you

Cleansed of my apathy I yearn for our knowing space

We swim in the rivers of fertility, aware of surrounding beings, aware of our love

Your eyes reflect mine; I see my thoughts- you blink

Lost in blue clouds swimming with green wisps- I control myself

Until later when unleashed I am yours

A small time for destiny to dance on the skin that covers our gluttonous bodies

She laughs, knowing I’m a tortured in the shortness of time

She cries knowing I’m thrilled with her enrollment

Captivated in scents of fornication, my name is gone; your face drifts from my memory

And I dream of a new day 

Lips against flesh

Tongue into bodily crevices.

Tracing every curve, shivering under the pulse of another

Clutched by you, I feel no fear.

Only fear of losing myself into something that I cannot hold onto.

That I cannot describe.

Comfort replaces anxiety.

I look at your lips, slightly parted,

Breath rapidly escaping from inside that moist mouth.

Pulling ourselves together, we sing for more

I want to cry, with happiness, with relief, for reasons that aren’t even there.

Your imperfectness matches mine

Although sometimes I want you to be more

Then simple

My body shakes with pleasure

I don’t want you to go

To leave

Apart again

So new, everything is so new

A life has begun, one that I did not foresee

Purity makes me bleed

Makes me drip for you

Crucify me, let me die

I want only for you to be a part of me

Indefinitely

Wake up and smell each others provocative scent

It’s the air that I breathe.

The gentleness of death

Sits upon a shelf, for she is no longer needed

I’m living, finally alive

Pain is hidden, for just a day or two

Until we’re drifted apart

Like a mother torn from her child

Touch me

Crave me

Need me

I pulse for thee, I shake with conviction

You taste of life, not hiding under false pretenses

Take me under, for the night is not over yet

And we are still young. 

I am already wet as I pull up the right leg of my fishnets, stopping mid-thigh. My wardrobe lacks knee high stockings, those that usually fit the normal “school girl” attire. But in this case I still fit the image, but look tougher, more dominating, versus the submissive in pigtails.

            Sitting on the arm of the couch, feet on the windowsill, I spread my legs wide open so that any passerby would be able to see the very crevice that makes me so desirable. I place the straw into my mouth, suck on it, roll it around in my mouth as if it were a large penis, and suck up the mixed drink that I previously made in my untidy grease stained kitchen.

            It is in this position that I wait, wait for my lover to return home. I am on my third Bacardi and diet coke by the time the door opens. In enters my prince, I am ready to ride him like the stallion that he is. My desire is hidden under a small kiss with which I greet him at the entrance to our apartment, and I keep my weak knees sturdy atop my coquettish black shoes. Eyeing me up and down like a prized trophy recently won, but not yet viewed, he slips his hands under my pleated skirt

            “Ah, bare ass, just the way I like it.”

He touches my soft skin, the round flesh contained in his clenched fingers. My ass could remind one of buttocks similar to one on a 1950’s showgirl, slightly drooping like a ripe orchard fruit but tight and immediately appealing. Always seeking a light slap or the gentle turn of leather strap. 

We smile at each other, me revealing straight white teeth, his slightly perpendicular and with just a hint of yellow. Imperfections turn me on, just like tattoos and other tarnishes to ones otherwise flawless skin.

            His hands haven’t moved from their place on my lower arcade, and he begins to stroke my eager pussy. He removes a finger from the warm depths of blushing fruit, and puts it in his mouth, tasting my horniness on his tongue. He brings me to the couch, the very same on which I sat allowing the wind to dry my wantonness.

It is dusk now, the daylight being tucked behind the hemisphere by night’s anticipation for its ritualistic playtime. With the lights on, our sexual encounters are viewed by the outside world with wide-open eyes. Too easy would it be to shut the lights off, and let our orgasms remain inside our coven of intimacy.

The exhibitionist in us joins and we moan in to be heard, we fuck to be watched. With nipples raised in salute to love makers everywhere we ride and dip, we swerve and fall off the roads to orgasm until we reach out destination with crashing exuberance. 

 It is an odd thing, to know that the neighbors may be watching your breasts rise and fall with passion. The excited moans echoing down the block, serving as lullabies for the deprived old men, the eager passerby and yet making the married couples blush as they eat their FDA approved dinner. Hoping the children won’t ask: why it always sounds as if the house down the street is housing wild animals that continually vocalize their discomfort at being caged in.