Familiarity can be a trap
and it’s scary
how easily my form has taken shape
wedging snugly in that groove
when all I want
is something healthy, something new

Like rain riding gravity to the lowest point,
I slide into
The cracks I knew
The way my fingers bend around you
Into the soft spot near your elbow, the folds behind your neck,
The valley where your hip meets thigh

When it just seems so snug
Don’t be deceived
Habits also come with
The ease that feels like
A good thing
But you’re just falling
Lulled into another place you thought you know
My synapses have this map
Of his musk
The touch that begs a trail
To the bed
The glacier tracing folds and ravines

And I can’t rightly say
That I know the strength
Of finding another way, to
Head up and learn anew
A new route
To forge through and find a peak
That gets me.

I want to dangle off the side
Stay in sight and
Excitedly keep trying and failing
Let my rough edges fray
And dance on slipping tectonic plates
Gaining all the wind, the bewilderment
My mind stretching to see new things
No matter where it goes
Hands searching unfounded territory
Tangling my nails in messes of his hair
With fistfuls of flesh
Grappling to stay on
I will see where it takes me

Published in: on April 4, 2019 at 12:23 am  Leave a Comment  
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I’ve come down with a fever
My temp is dependent on a few numbers
30 and rising is the difference in degrees between us
and 86.7 are the miles keeping us apart
And, honey, it’s so hard
All I want is to break this fever
And smash my self deep into your toasty skin
You’re the only warmth I want seeping in
Squirming and writhing through this valley fume
Just to reach you, I’ll scale tasks and maps
I’ll span the schedule gaps
And launch myself into your lap

The seizures I suffer,
Aftershocks and twitches, my lover;
Your steam whispered hot…
I am finding this tougher to survive
It’s much easier to admit this
That all I want
Is to call in sick and
Suck your sweat
Into every damn pore of mine,
Break this fever
Like an egg over your lips
And quiet my convulsive quiver
Beneath those silky fingertips

So if you want to know
why I am glowing these many days;
burning and biting and restless,
It is that untempered temperature
My heart smashing arrhythmically
Desperate for a degree
That washes me with ease

The doctor said
My pharmacy is on a swift road west
I guess there will be relapse after relapse
And perhaps with frequent treatment
And your hands behind my knee bends
Together, we can beat, this.

Published in: on August 18, 2018 at 10:12 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Maraschino Tombstone Lover

I’ve been holding myself tight

Waiting for you to take a bite outta meh

Knock all that talk of dichotomy

I want you to have the whole lot of me

Let’s fuck our way into eternity

I’m no fiduciary seduciary

I’m more a “let’s me and you get buried”

Type, but I’m kinda wary. I forgot

To put the cherry

On top

Published in: on January 18, 2017 at 1:29 am  Leave a Comment  
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Liquid lips

Liquid lips
Splash to kiss
Our Submarine ripples blip
Beneath the surface, slipped

Harpoon hips
Sway and dip
Fervor flowing flesh splash flip
Making waves that lick and drip

Intrepid eyes
Lash blink like
Fins in spasmodic flight
In the abyss' naughtical night

Periscope Penis
Risen between us
We dove so deep just
To fathom the freeness

Torpedo Tongues
Siren sung
Salty swallowed aqualung
Soaked until it can't be wrung

Porthole Peepers
Dilate deeper
Soul shock slick seeper
Oil orgasmic spilling weeper

Surfacing serenity
Enchating entity
Visceral vessel capsized virginity
Encapsulated by salinity
Published in: on October 13, 2013 at 11:40 pm  Comments (3)  
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Native tongue

This is not your native tongue
It is magic spells in tonal fountains
Spraying foreign sonnets at tender women
Every huff and breath,
The rounding of your lips
Giving way to bliss incarnate,
Sounds so intent and near
To moisten the ear!
And you speak it so well
I would never know
It did not come from mother’s kisses.
Yet in a tryst such as this
It is clear your fluency
Agrees with me
Each parted lip limbered linguistically
I can translate the vibrations in your throat
And decipher the murmur in your moan
The accent crescendos roll from your tongue
Open wide palate, right off it comes,
Diaphragm heaving tones
Making a language so unknown, but understood.
And here I marvel while you remark
In bothered babble and twisted tongue
Coming together
and coming undone
Conjugating wild verbs, we greet each one
Following syllables like metronomes
Vocal rhythms,
pulsing bones
I know your mouth is a long way from home
But that ease when you breathe and squeeze
The familiar hum from your lungs,
Is something I want
wrapped around my native tongue.

Published in: on August 6, 2013 at 10:53 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Freudian Finger

You ask me how it is to be alone,
I’ve tried to keep myself at home
I’d blame the vultures, but they know
it’s me

There’s a digit that beckons “come along”
Luring me with crafted prose or song
But I can’t utter “so long”
it’s not me

Scanning the inked dermis in italics
My heart gets all dazzly metallic
deciphering the phrases in phallic
speaking to me

Reading between the loins
I get the message where the legs join
and that Freudian finger points
at me

I am a geysering ink well
Sir, you speak, I spell
Sharpen up the quill
you’ll see

There are stories in my folds
And empty pages to behold
Etch what you want told
on me

We are not so alienated
when skin slipped syllables are sated
living dreams read aloud, dissertated
with we

Published in: on February 23, 2013 at 3:59 am  Comments (2)  
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bend space and time

with your mind…

when you can bend spoons?

I’d bend you behind me,

and spoon for an eternity.

Instead of summoning foreign galaxies,

I’d use my telepathy

to let you have a scoop of me

Or hell, we could just levitate

and bend our limbs in figure eights

But I digress

Let’s make a mess

Blow each others’ minds and telekinect

We’ll bend the big dipper

get deeper, shred zippers

and around our little fingers, wrap time winding

watch stars shining

as they shift,

wielding the hourglass’ drift

of cosmic glittering gun powder

into our ever curving endless hours.

Published in: on November 27, 2012 at 12:29 am  Leave a Comment  
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From across a table
in a dimly lit restaurant
The traces
of your face washed over with want,
The haunt of hunger,
A carnal hunger
Bobbles on your quivering brow
lock-eyed, a silent sigh spawns a
saliva surging mouth
The air between us grows thick
With sultry stick
And how
All the stars thud to the earth
As the girth of the air
In our momentary tension
Drags them there
No sparks or blitzkriegs avert our stare
This silence,
intentional and intense
Dictates my first entree:
Biting the inside of my lower lip
And it seems clear, quite
That if I
In this chair, remain
Will devour myself,
My entire self
And it only seems fair
That we, ourselves excuse
For there is so much to savor,
And no time to lose.

Published in: on November 10, 2012 at 11:19 pm  Leave a Comment  
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The Red Hours

I’ve got 8 legs
I’ll be busy all day
wrapping guys up
having my way
sucking them dry
till their skin’s shrink wrapped
round their spine
I’ve ate well today
got eggs to lay
and I’ve saved the corpses
they dangle and sway
in my widow web
what gets caught is mine
It’s still dark
and I know
there are many more friends
oh, it’s far too easy
to lure them in
if I show just a little
of any 8 legs they’re
bound to have a happy end…
Come join the party
where the boys all hang
You’re the dish for the dinner
that’ll cure hunger pangs
I’ve got a gossamer trap
and a daft pair of fangs
So I’ll feed on you
bound, you can’t move 
my hourglass tattoo, bobbing
red and smooth
will be your last sight
at the final close of your eyes
I’ll rest on silk, satisfied
you’re so much better
than all those flies
and I’m so glad
you decided to 
crawl by
 what gets caught is mine
Published in: on September 19, 2012 at 12:25 am  Leave a Comment  
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I want to be smothered in blackberry and ivy in the inebriated drips of this honey thick heat,
Every barbed tendril puncturing my stifled body,
Oozing my sticky-sweet juice, slathering your whole.
Cover my all, take me in!
It seems all I ever learnt of love is how to succumb.


Published in: on August 2, 2012 at 12:34 am  Leave a Comment  
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Say something or nothing at all

get out the gag or lets have a ball

hours of words I want dripping down my leg

are stifled by silence, cause me to beg

Lovers forget the keys handcuffs require

wrought in the irons of their verbal fire

Wriggle your whipping tongue in the odes

of impressionable lines, lashes of code

that impress every part of me, exposed

But instead, here we sit, with mouths safety pinned

staring at each other, hand curled ’round armrest ends

hush clenched fingernails deep digging in

Single fingers on lips never rub quite enough

to start dialogue, garrulous dialogue, that strips me to buff

I’ve orifices at the ready to receive your tirade

Articulate diction to undo the bed that we made

Open your mind, our hearts, your mouth, my thighs

I’m all ears, well, almost, if you’re one of those guys

Published in: on July 30, 2012 at 11:48 pm  Leave a Comment  
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I’d swim right down in
to your inky den
and let every writhing tentacle in
nevermind the oxygen
It’s time to get literal
The lighthouse lit the littoral
and aquatic path for clittoral
lapping octet limbs so visceral
Knots I’ve swam for that naughty, nautical nymph
and sank below the dismal depths
He takes me and each lack of breath 
ravages me with enzymes till nothing’s left
It’s getting graphic, oceanographic
preferring the aquatic over plastic
pleasures derived from drastic
measures steeped in superficial tactics
So, I want to squirm with serpentine squid
them putting in and pulling out again
squeezing air, not there, and then
assimilating my flesh until I meet my end.
Published in: on June 11, 2012 at 12:47 am  Comments (3)  
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Femme Fatale II

Read Part I 
Part II 
It’s too late,
her allure has lured you in
your reflection,
now forever fixed in her eyes;
a prisonly prism
that will not look away,
and while she sways
Every touch, evidence,
she will lift with her powder brush
Those bombshell bosoms
close enough, you hear the ticking
and you know it is not her black heart
When your hand reaches the top
of that satin slit
and her garter clicks,
you will know
“This is it”.
Published in: on May 26, 2012 at 11:34 pm  Comments (1)  
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Femme Fatale

Her beauty is imminent danger:
Ringlets tailspin from her head
dive bomb and crash into her shoulders
A collarbone set like a bear trap
Dagger sharp nails soaked in victim red
Her tsunami sway hips’ destructive tides
Quicksand lips and a tongue like a whip
Lead pipe legs that blind with their glisten
Piercing eyes that break skin
drawing blood from your heart
to the surface by tiny pinpricks
Lampshade fringe eyelashes
luring the moths
Cannonball breasts ready to ignite
And the hourglass figure that warned you
Your time is almost up!

Published in: on April 24, 2012 at 11:40 pm  Comments (3)  
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She won’t admit it, but
she wants to be a cause worth pursuing;
To make a man
trapezius flaring,
jugular bulging,
clenched and pumping
with determination;
tackled to the ground
and ravaged like a battlefield.
She won’t admit it,
but she wants to be a territory worth fighting for,
even if she fights back,
she is begging
to be won;
to have a soldier
of desire
conquer her,
to be completely
by his might,
to have him launch an attack
so fierce
it will end in
bloody surrender.
She won’t admit it,
She will be coy, will put up walls
She wants torn down,
Will wail for her troops
to save her,
But her lusting heart is a defector
Longing to be shackled
And bound, impounded
And pounded into
Succumbed weak yielding torture.
Published in: on February 5, 2012 at 2:00 pm  Leave a Comment  
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The Experiment!

arsenic aromatic

ache automatic

poison position

potent premonition

soft-serve sodomy

simple symbiotomy

you’re gonna get a lot of me

grapple grabber


ha-ha-ha hot hurt

he’s a heavy hammer

serendipity dilate

formulaic fixate

hypodermic hyperbole

cascading on my cruise control

perforating  pathway

a pleasant petrie paté

limbo locking

cock chalking

mighty meaty meltaway

burning bushy bombastic

slippery cellular spectacular spastic

nightie igniting knightly noble

streaking and strumming siren strobal

dynamite detonate uproarious

golden rush gush glowing glorious

Published in: on April 22, 2011 at 12:12 am  Comments (3)  
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The Will, Made Real

With my thoughts and your hands

together, we can make

what I can imagine

become reality.

If I can think it, you can craft it.

Together, we can revel

in my vision and your skill-

the will, made real.

If you can understand my plan

with those hands,

before our eyes,

dreams can be realized.

Sparks of intention can be set ablaze

by mutual execution.

Let’s put those hands to work, sir.

I can conjure your masterpiece.

We will concoct the tastiest recipes,

make music in all the keys,

and climax our way to pedantry.

Published in: on December 14, 2010 at 1:30 am  Comments (2)  
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She wants a docile beast.

A weary-eyed miner to keep on a leash.

She wants to stroke his beard like the wind moving it’s invisible hands over high summer’s cornfields. To plow her fingers through the pastures of his heaving chest. And search his inevitable forest with her undoing glare, to find the spot so bare. She will plant her kisses there.

She wants to make him pant. And sweat. He will be like a paintbrush daubing his memoirs in a glaze. His bristles, etching an epitaph of roses on her parchment.

She will entangle herself in those tiny vines, and like animals, let nature become their conscience.

Published in: on July 28, 2010 at 11:33 am  Comments (6)  
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Meet-her and Rhyt-him

That song in my head

was your whisper in my ear

that started a quickening beat

in my chest

foot on the bass pedal

thump thump thump

tap the hi-hat

wait for the pause

then a swell,


of strumming guitar

an ambient eddy of liquid velvet

suspending me sideways

rustling my strings

into sublime vibrato,

my keys,

pulsed into rhythmic refrain

pound the chorus of angelic proclaims

the stick, drumming the taut-skinned head

with rapid licks

and pounds like bricks

your fingers on that neck dancing wild,

every extremity, defiled

with harmonic tingles

carrying every tender decibel deep inside

Published in: on June 17, 2010 at 12:21 am  Comments (6)  
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A Real Man

He smells like John Wayne:
campfires and stogies,
filthy heroic perspiration as pheromone lady bait
He feels like Death Valley:
his bristly skin like sandpaper to the touch,
his grainy landscape, molding and contouring to my succumbed body
He sounds like a pump action shotgun:
sliding into position, with a firm click
locked and loaded and ready to blast ammunition
He tastes like Apache smoked buffalo:
aged to perfection
sheets of shredded brawn to gnaw on
YET, he looks like a a tall glass of milk:
wholesome, and lanky
eyeglasses, and a fluidity that makes me want to drink him up.
Published in: on May 9, 2010 at 1:55 am  Comments (2)  
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