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In CompleteYou're so beautiful
when you don't belong to me,
a luscious little puzzle
I need so desperately to complete.
Every movement becomes a tease,
and while you're speaking
I'm paying more attention to your mouth
than the words
because I want to taste your tongue,
not your promises of love.
I'll take you,
body over soul,
because I figure, what good is a soul
if it can't get me off,
and what good is love
if it can't provide the warm, soft squeeze
of closing thighs
against my hot, hungry hips.
when I catch my breath
and the heat of the moment has cooled,
I always notice
how the jigsaw of your body
is somehow less captivating
once a piece of me
has snapped inside of it...
and my eyes begin searching,
and my body begins aching,
for a newer, harder puzzle
for me to fit in -- complete.
UnveiledWith my eyes closed
my senses heighten,
the soft pressure of your figure,
warm and undulating
beneath my fingertips,
leaves my lungs
and if not for the hot air
caught between our lips
I might collapse...
and even then,
sometimes you leave my mind
that I can hardly remember
where to go
when you step away.
I know you can feel it,
that we both harvest
within one another.
for the curve
of my palm,
of my lips,
the caress of my body.
You make me tremble,
as my heart pumps so hard
I think you must feel it
against your chest
as I know you must feel
my body reacts to yours,
hardening and becoming
malleable in your hands.
Passion pours out
in streaming rivulets of love,
necessity and desire
that explodes between us
when the world
falls away into the darkness
and all that exists
are our bodies, hearts,
and the urgency grows nearer...
the absolute need
for us to become one
ExposeThere is a picture
stuck to your refrigerator
that explains everything
I could never understand.
The first time I set foot inside of your house
I was drawn to it, analyzing it
like some technicolor rorschach test.
Your eyes are lit
by the blinding glow of the flash,
but your lips
are holding the most honest smile
I've ever seen upon them.
Your hair is dark,
a wavy blur against the background,
dripping down against his face,
against your arm
draped across his shoulders.
As I look back
and reflect on that photograph
I find some details
are beginning to slip away...
Were you wearing a leather jacket,
or was it simply black
and was he smiling
or just looking toward the camera
Everything fades eventually,
and memories are more fragile
than our dreams,
but mine is omitting pieces on purpose.
when I looked into your developed eyes
that I would never fit
inside the borders of that scene,
would never smile like that for me.
There is no time
where we could be caug
Beseech My KindredMy eyes know avarice
when they land upon your beauty,
but hungry for more,
I consume your every piece
and commit your loveliness to memory
like a favorite song,
replaying in my mind all day.
Your mind infatuates me,
I fall into the endlessness of your thought
through every phantom wisp
of your dreams,
committed to discovering
the everything that has come together
in the magnificence
My heart calls to you,
drawn in and longing for connection,
I feel you
in every moment of my day
and the world reminds me
in little, mystic ways
of my ache
for the tenderness of your touch.
Some men dream to build,
to construct a monument of immortality,
to sculpt a form
to carry on their name,
but I have found
that my immortality lay
where my love shall always abide
and my adoration
will continue to blossom each day.
Your fingerprints upon my skin,
constant between my lips,
your scent flowing over me,
I am enveloped in you
with a scorching passion
EverythingLong have I dreamed
of the way morning light paints your eyes,
of my smile
cradled in the darkness of your pupils,
of your fingers finding mine
beneath the ripples of our blankets
where the skin of your hip
seethes against my thigh.
Your dark hair
pooling around that beautiful face,
inches from my own
as a jealous sun sneaks glances
through the glass
where I've got the perfect poetry...
repeating through my mind,
dancing along the tip of my tongue.
I press my lips to your forehead
and brush loose strands
behind your ear
as you squirm in closer,
until all space between us has succumbed
to our bodies necessity
for a reminder that this is no dream,
but the grace of a reality
we have finally birthed.
And with you
I am at my most beautiful,
the pinnacle of my existence exemplified
in the way you fit me,
every disjointed shape finding
its mate in an opposing piece of me,
another epiphany of the heart,
where everything that has ever been
FaithThere is something about you
that speaks to me of destiny, of possibility,
of the power of faith.
I never was much for it,
not within the pages of The Book,
nor on the lips of humanity,
but in the autumn sunset of your eyes
I perceive the probability.
In the message of your kiss
I can taste the promise of today's dream
and tomorrow's reality.
There comes a seismic shift
at the core,
somewhere in the cradle of my chest
where your heart shares space
with my own
and together they sing
in rhythmic thumps, dots and dashes,
a transcript of you and I
and our everything.
It can be frightening,
to close my eyes and make the leap,
I find myself charging blind
into the endless causeway of your love
because I believe in it,
because I believe in you.
You have it all,
much like my love,
is solitarily yours,
undying and aching
for your gentle affirmation,
your delicate touch,
your passionate annexation.
Tell MeTell me
if you miss me,
can feel my absence
like a piece of yourself
has fallen away,
like a chunk of your being
and only I can replace it.
if your eyes wander
to the empty spaces
that I once filled
with a sense,
with an ache of longing,
to be near me once more,
and once more,
and once more again.
if your nights are haunted
by the phantoms
of my touch,
of my eyes and my voice,
of my kiss
and of the beauty
of you and I.
Do you ever yearn for me
that you can feel it in every limb,
deep inside your stomach,
do the screams
of your livid, red heart
for hours on end
and leave you begging
for the next moment we come together?
if you believe in fate,
the probability of a soulmate,
of a natural design
that makes your everything
so beautifully with mine.
if your hunger rivals mine,
if your dreams
are identical to my own,
if your urges
the way that mine are all
PromiseIt’s funny how life works, the way it can turn on a dime and completely change in the blink of an eye. I’m not sure where I’d be standing right now if I had turned left instead of right, what I’d be thinking or feeling if you had chosen down instead of up. I’ve never been sure of fate, of the concept that there is a plan or a reason for everything. It always seemed too inhibited that way, like I didn’t have a choice in where my life went. The closest I ever came to really buying fate was the idea that we are bound to come to certain crossroads and to make certain decisions in life, but that each decision was ours to make and based upon that decision we would come to another crossroad. I came to one of those decisions the first time I ever laid my eyes on you.
I remember it, very clearly. I remember where you were standing, I can sort of remember what you were wearing. Things were different then and I didn
All We Got TonightI am still falling
deeper with each breath
that draws me
closer and closer to you,
to that place
where I can feel your hands
grasping at my fingers,
cupping my chin,
urging me to show you something...
there is something
that you really should know --
I am not in the business
of giving up
and I'll damn sure never
are coming with me.
Come to me love,
the way your dreams carry you
through those dark walls
like yellow sun into my blue skies,
awash with warmth
endless as the ocean
that is beating hard
against the dam of your lips,
to where we become submerged
in one another;
I'll never let you sink
lower than my eyes can see
if you will just
allow yourself to fall,
just fall with me.
I am beginning to believe
that we are wishing
on the same star,
that we each feel in every part
that has the urge to ache
for one another
and I am hoping that your eyes,
your glorious eyes,
can see that I've
the heroin heroinehow can you save someone
with tattoos and track marks?
they called him Jesse
and I loved him, I loved him
too much for my own good.
he was a burnt-out angel
with weathered grandfather wings
and an aluminum halo.
"please," I begged, incessant,
"please, stop. you're better than this."
I wrestled with his addiction
as though it was my own,
destroyed syringes straight from
the crook of his elbows.
I always knew he had one true love,
and it sure wasn't me.
his arm was pale and thin
around my shoulders,
pale and thin in the masquerade lamplight,
where he pierced his veins
in belt-constricted solitude.
one night, as I paced
with his bent silver spoon
clutched in my palms,
he told me that he needed it,
oh God, he needed it.
he needed that one slow descent
into black oblivion, that one place
where nothing existed to hurt him.
for the first time,
I realized my place.
whenever he kissed me,
he thought not of my lips,
not of my tongue.
he thought of a cool chill,
Chasefor you i would catch summer
like a teen catching glory on a lean silver bicycle-
ripping through the streets of Triumph and Nostalgia
as if i could conquer or escape each one
and rise- rise- rise with the reddening
of your cheek as it mirrors our desire-
i will chase you until my starving hands
can feel no curves; until my eyes cannot contain
the bursting of your colours like parachutes on a stale
blue sky; until my mouth no longer tastes the days of August
on your lips-
your season lingers
like a haze in the sahara:
some oversaturated mirage,
or maybe just a miracle
that winked out too fast.
StarsI'm connecting lines in the sky,
Making pictures of you
From the canvas of the night.
Maybe if I try hard enough,
I can make the stars descend
From their celestial sea
To comfort me on my terrestrial shore,
From nothing maybe I can make
How I wish you were beside me,
In the field of night tracing your dreams through the sky,
So that I may know you as
I wish you knew me.
But for now,
The stars will have to make due,
With only my dreams drawn upon them.
He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,
even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures
faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs
savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.
I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.
The record needle hits the groove wrong;
he stumbles over words that aren’t there,
rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore
and his confusion is strangely endearing.
But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,
poetic lines inserted between the daily grind
of character names and who said what;
voiceless boys in white and draymen carting the dead to saltwater lakes,
elegiac undertones that haunt historians and forlorn painters.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore –
except when he does.
incandescence in withering awayit's a shout out
to a homeless grandfather clock
an exclamation point
for the shards of glass; worthless
becoming obsessed with becoming equal
you will see the clock stopped
when you lived and started
when the crow came to sit
with the dusty owls on the back fence
you always said was made
to give yourself away
fresh picked from a giveaway
and omens too light to give way
to the time schemes
i found and i find that
so keep it on the down low
don't let it stutter
you know how they hear when
they're stuck so far down under
it's a trip, a pitfall
among the introvert whispers
"this is how the elders found their way,
it's repetitive with stone grind and
a bad taste in my mouth that i hate."
i don't add narcissism to murmurs
never understood, meant to be passed away
to under wave, tripped over bottles
that happened that one night, that one time
not a single one is more important,
maybe in individual night skies
we'll find our warped tuned lullabies
you're just a question marki met you so long ago
but back then our bodies were made of metal
and nowadays they’re made of the blades of
grass and dirt settling
underneath my fingernails.
my fingers are having a hard time
reaching the keys and
my organs are shaking mostly because i haven’t
eaten in two days but also
because i’m worried about the things you're doing to yourself.
we didn’t meet very long ago at all but it feels like forever ago
and you say you don’t know me
that you don’t know anyone
but baby you're turning into a skeleton and i’m peeling back my skin
to try and reach my bones, just like you.
i hope you're happy,
i’m covering the hard wood floors now
the bits and pieces splattered.
they are calling it a suicide but i’m calling it
a way to see my brain and
just how dark it has become, and honestly
i don’t want you to try and see about your’s.
i’m mourning the loss of my heart and wish you weren’t either -
the last poem to my firsti.
you always touched me carefully,
running your light fingers over my shaking hips
as if i were a fragile thing
(to be protected instead of loved)
but in the end
you broke me
you always said you didn't know how you felt about me
but the loneliness in your trailing fingertips
told me all i needed to hear.
how many "i love you"s have drowned
in the uncertainty behind your eyelids?
how many kisses have died
in the doubt i tasted on your tongue?
new years day i woke up in your bed
alone with a headache
and a house of cards in my mind.
you pushed it over the first time you breathed into my ear that morning
whispering you loved me
as if it were a secret
as if i were a secret
we were broken things together
crazy things together
driven insane and driving insane
desperate and deserted
but you can't build a relationship
out of mutual loneliness.
never give yourself to an artist
because you miss writing love poems.
but someday i'll miss you.
My Dear Sons and DaughtersFall in love with everything
Fall in love with ideas: anarchy
and LaVeyan Satanism.
Fall in love with solitary back-packing
through Israel or Mexico.
Fall in love with gamma radiation
or tiger-taming, MMA cage fighting
or free-climbing the Rocky Mountains,
but do not fall in love
People will want you
for your similarities to one
or more of their parents;
they will want you
for the outline, the concept of you;
they will want you
because you want them –
they will not know
what they want.
People will take the bed you shared
and fuck other people
in the barely cooled indent
of your absent body
(they will also take your cat,
leaving you with scarred hands
and nothing for them to stroke).
They will promise to never leave you
and maybe they won’t,
but they will buckle you in with them
on the bipolar-coaster,
left flying off unfinished tracks,
and you will have to jump,
They will be perfect
except for little things –
answering their pho
Wanderlust Takes You to Strange Placesyou've got that suitcase, half-packed and tattered, waiting by the door.
you're thinking of saying goodbye to these hardwood floors to travel the Nullabor, to feel the desert strip your skin of the filth that crawls over it.
it sure would be nice to see stars, out beyond the streetlights of the city. you could lose yourself in the blank stretches between them, forget your toes are anchored in dirty red sand.
you've got that suitcase, half-packed and tattered, waiting by the door.
you're thinking it was a good thing you visited that clinic all those months ago with Jimmy clinging to your hand like a limpet.
his sweat formed an ocean in the palm of your hand and when you tasted it, it filled your empty womb with relief and the trickle of blood kissed your thighs like a lover would.
you've got that suitcase, half-packed and tattered, waiting by the door.
you're thinking of saying goodbye to blood and bone, tattered ribcage on the floor. beauty is only skin deep but sin sits
is less about flowers
than it is
about Monday mornings,
when all the world
dreads the commute,
to share a space with you.
of serenades and starlight,
I often find myself
inside of mundane fantasies,
of your shower wet hair,
so snugly together
in dashboard light
like lips and hips
in the blue glow
satellite stereo screens,
long to take you
So many men
seek the perfection
that have no basis
want to dive head first
tangled up in every complication
that is us.
My love --
you are the everything
flaws and highlights,
and all of your bad,
of a lifetime spent longing
which only you possess,
am not -ever-
going to give up on
Hath No FearGiving yourself completely up to fear is kinda like falling in love: You can't pin point exactly when it started and by the time you realize that you are surrounded by that sensation it's already game over. Just like the image of the person you are in love with starts creeping out from every unexpected corner, fear never leaves your side when you give it a welcome stay. After a restless sleep, it starts beating anxiously in your heart the moment you wake up in the morning and commands all your thoughts and actions throughout the day. It is nothing short of a prison, except you are the only inmate and the warden never takes a break. Ever.
I do not exactly remember when I let fear occupy my being but I remember the exact moment when I realized I was ruled by it. It was late in the afternoon, everybody was out there 'getting busy living' and I had locked myself inside my bed half awake, not particularly finding any valid reason to get out of it. Then I was awakened from a nightmare by my
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More