Category: Love & Lust

Tipi [5-7-2018]

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The morning broke upon the valley, light illuminating their home, smoke curling from the top of the tipi. Symbols of omens dancing across the rays of light. The birds awoke, their song in time with the murmuring of the stream.

They slept on inside; Naked bodies pressed tight for warmth and comfort. Wrapped in fur hides and each other. Dreaming of plentiful game and an abundance of children. The dogs stretched and sniffed for bones and game. The man stretched and sniffed for her, burying his face into her long hair, warm with the scent of skin and flowers and dreams.

He pulled her tight against him, his hands grasping at her curves as one does for the fleeting memories of a dream. He slid himself between her legs and pushed into her deeply, she awakening with a soft gasp, her eyes sleepy yet alert, her body willing against his, her kiss upon his lips tasting of the morning dew. She opened herself beneath him as a flower opens itself to the sun, and he filled her with his seed. His skin smelled of fur and smoke and his eyes promised her a child.

Hotel Bathroom [3-30-04]

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This bathroom buzzes with the sound of a fan whirring.
It’s blades loom and spin with a constant rhythm.
The dim, ultraviolet light on the ceiling,
Bleaches everything out into shades of cream and khaki.

I lay in a calm and murky pool enclosed in cold white walls.
Steam rises from its surface and fogs the room.
The water condensates in mirroring beads on the walls,
Making the tiny bathroom seem colorless and infinite.

I want to go home to my own aqua green bathtub,
Walls crawling with tiny square tiles of burnt umber and burgundy.
Where my silent meditation in the bath,
Is interrupted by your call on the telephone.

When you sing [7.11.19]

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When you sing, the smile lines around your mouth come out, curving along with the sharp lines of your face. Your eyes closed in passion and concentration, brow furrowed, your profile illuminated by the glow of the dashboard lights. A vein rises, running like a river from behind your ear, down your neck, and disappearing behind your collarbone. I trace my fingertips lightly along the skin of your neck while you sing, the muscles and tendons tight from your exhalations.

Your taste in music is intelligent. The taste of you is divine. The way you sing when no one else is around, makes me feel as though I’m witnessing a miracle, or something never seen by human eyes before. Your voice fills the cab of the truck and my ears and my heart.

I can’t look away from you, in the way I imagine, people stared up at saints as they were on their knees in awe.

Running Away [9.26.19]

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Everything I’ve ever loved has died,
or caught fire,
or both.

I cannot seem to keep things, or people;
always disappearing,
or being destroyed,
or running away.

I want love and only give destruction.
I want a good life yet have only been dealt in ruins.

My history;
a series of inverse cards on a table,
the taste of ashes in my mouth,
and the feel of blood in the hands.

Pain can always be found hidden within the pleasures,
and more oft than not,
I get great pleasure from the pain.

Some days I rule in Hell,
and some days I serve in Heaven,
but in neither duty am I ever completely satisfied.