poetry
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Brinkmanship. To Pleasureand Pain, it is a mere gameas they vie for triumphover the battlefield of my flesh,and I, I am not paltry collateral damagenor simply the canvasupon which this masterpiece artworkof craving and climax is created.To yield is not passive.I participate in the compositionof your opus, respond to your touch,and you coax a duetfrom…
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He’s squeezed enough tears from me over the years, so these are not his. The day will come (I must believe it) when simple kindnesses will not notch an arrow then send it humming through the air until it hits the targethe left hanging on my heart. Again I bleed,but these tears water the roots…
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I offer you my tears, willingly, and yet we both have to work for them. Whilst their threatening presence ever lurksfor a variety of reasons, it takes the perfect storm to breach the dam walls. You’ve seen what I can take, and it requires a certain finesseto dance at the borders of breaking me,walking that…
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I rememberdry mouth and racing heartexhilaration and trepidationknit by determinationto experience for myselfthe phenomenonthat was the desideratum of my hiraeth.Todaythe approach is familiarand no longer needs a mapand despite the intoxication of anticipationand reason reminding methis is both fledgling and ephemeralmy pulse calms, my breaths deepenas I ascend the stairsand peace descends.With youI am able…
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My brain synthesised theory and experiencewith a dash of innate sense, a desire coded deep within the cellular blueprint of the fabric of my being, and I had ideas, predictions, hopes about how it would feel. Not physically, I was warned enough that the first time might hurt,that it was awkward and messy, and technique…
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Vivid imagination grasps at the pictures conjured by your words; technicolor andsurround sound, a theatre in my mind. And deep within the core of my being, both mentally and physically, the flickeringlights are focused to a point as a glass lensconcentrates sunlight onto kindlingand my fibres begin to smoke with desire,and you breathe gently across…
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A loss of idiomatic nuance;do you indeed shine upon men,a beneficent demigoddess of prophecy,or do you instead shine over them,your glow falling upon themas contemptuous glances, that stillthey gobble, hungry seagullscompeting for a morsel of dropped chip,but the beams that rest on me(I am no man) are of warm desireand I see why the god…
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The light remains green. I’m not safe-wording, not saying I withdraw consent, merely that this did not feature in any of the scenarios I imagined, in any of my most hidden fantasies. I was prepared to hurt, and when I said make me cry, I meant take me to a level of physical pain that…
Spilled Ink from the Vault 