Your Sultry Skin sundrops sink from skyinto my hands myhair myeyes andsoak intome, substancecombined, intertwinedand i fall likesun
Within the Text find room toexploremassive spaceover one thousand yearsto sketch exhaustivelycomplex formationsover timethis drama is keyto provokestruggle in oppositionand hope in fictionwhich tensions finallyestablishpoetry
Speak to Me No, it's not therein your handsgroping heart's unbroken beat quickening, I faintscorched in skin's enticing heatAnd it's not therein your mouthpressing pillows upon mineprovoking passion, shiversflickering my spineI crave it therein your eyesgazing down into my ownperhaps in reaching deepergrieved-for secrets could be shownI imagine thereinside of youfabricating bees and birdssparks, then magic flutters powered by your words
Midnight Wrestling Resurfaced breath, unwilling wakefulnessThe calm serenity---interruptedLike sinking lead inside the sockets ofMy skull, or glowing coals that smolder brightUnopened eyes, but conscious soul withinJust longing for the depths embrace once more A rolling groan and body toss and then---Enforced position vertical, the heat'sContinued burn within. An awkward strollIn heavy stumbles down the hallway's darkAnd quiet length, then sitting rigid, droopthe curtains upon sight. Return to rest,A lost caress in moonlit room's e-ter-nit-y A rolling groan and body toss and then-
Giving Up the Sugar There was a little pig-tailed girlwho wanted the winter pony with the strawberry hooves,but she got the dirty brown one instead.Her sister got the white one.What she wanted wasn't that importantanyway.There was a young wide-eyed girlwho wanted the pretty boy with the blueberry eyesbut she took the silly boy with the muddy eyes instead.He liked her, and really,what she wantedwasn't that importantanyway.There was a young even-tempered womanwho wanted her wedding with the blackberry-lipstick rosesbut she had the puny pink poppies instead.Her friend had the red roses, and besides,what she wantedwasn't that impo
Sorry to Put You Off...But... A kick in the stomach, a splitting headache, a quick touch and turn...better luck next time.A day wasted and lazy, a night alone and careless, and something good on tv...better luck next time.An angry word spoken, a tantrum undone, and unkempt supposed apologies...better luck next time.A day longer then most, a pair of droopy eyelids, and a soft pillow...maybe another time.
Steps to My Squishy Side Eight means bring me something specialmake sure it smells good.Seven means bring me something yummymake sure it comes in chocolate.Six means bring me something writtenmake sure you use pretty words.Five means bring me something secretmake sure it's only for me.Four means bring me something yoursmake sure you trust me enough.Three means bring me something that's just youmake sure there's nothing missing.Two means take what I want to give backmake sure you keep it precious.One means never letting any of it gomake sure that means forever.
Winterfresh Flames A piece of gum,your words roll like winterfresh breathfrom your lips, carving the air into ice sculptures,slowly freezing the torn edges of what I once had thought was truth.A refreshing sensation yet it has chilled me into my place and your words arewritten on my skin like frostbitten-blue tattoos.Give me cinnamon.You cease utterance and the air falls, thrown aside andcast into shatters of melting glass,quenching my flaming heart.I feel the steam in my chest.I used to feel protected by the lukewarm everydaybut this simultaneous heat and frost has altered the things I once knew.Your presence sets shivers through my s
careful hearts, sight's power careful heartmends the weakreckless mind,warming a soul'schilled body,breaking the blindwith sight's power<3--<3with sight's powerbreaking the blindchilled body,warming a soul'sreckless mindmends the weakcareful heart
Midnight Purple Midnight purple pleasures hideDew drops clinging at her sideAmid green gardens, wet leaves, and mudA drop of darkness paints the budDeep purple growing, awaiting lightHer midnight face hides, closed in tightOne day she'll peak out from her cocoonAnd then she'll smile up at high noonHer face brightly glowing, framed in nightLooking up joyfully to the lightMidnight purple pleasures hideDew drops clinging at her side
winds of change burnt crisp air howls throughtangled red hair, smoke clings there,left raw on her tongue
Beneath the Clock Tower The invitation came and I cringed because I'd gone to one of these before.The experience wasn't memorable in a good way. The process was drawn out and I wanted it to end so much it almost made me gag. I pulled away multiple times only to be thrust back into it. "We're supposed to keep going." He said. So I endured to the end. That minute was the longest minute of my life.I didn't want to force a replay.But I said yes. I don't know why.---So here I stand with you in the little crowd of people jammed beneath the narrow structure which hadn't been built to hold this many p
Intro to Nowhere Her voice, relaxed and almost sleepy, crackles over the speakers of his old tape cassette player. It's late to still be at work. He sits alone at his desk, his feet up, ankles crossed, his chair angled back sharply straining to hold his weight; and he listens.Most people in this world fear death.5 second pause.I am not one of those people.After a short pause, she sighs.Actually, I look forward to it. Even wish for it sometimes.5 second pause.It would be the ultimate escape.Charlie's brow furrows as he listens. He takes his feet down and opens his drawer to take out a pen and make not
Making Deals with the Wind I used to make deals with the wind.She'd blow for me, and I'd sing for her.She'd take the sound of my voice and immediately whisk it away to some far-off placelike a secret only she could hear.Perhaps she would deliver the message to some unknown someone far away.One who truly cared.She'd softly blow away all my cares and worries with my song,and I felt she was the most loyal and caring friend I had. The only one I had.Sometimes I thought she might be angry with me.She'd blow my hair so hard it would whip my faceand sting.It felt like a lashing.But the times I really knew she was mad were when she held so st
Who Goes First? I won't hug youuntil you say you're sorry....I won't say I'm sorryuntil you give me a hug.
Sta.sh
