A Filthy Write

I can smell you…I can smell you in my throat
My drowning in you, my fingers in you,
Sweat, on your legs, a deep night covers your moans,
You open more, and twist and sprawl, and taste your fingers
And I taste your fingers, and your legs…
You turn over and arch, and stare me down..
Don’t ever leave my mouth, don’t fucking leave…
You foot pushes me away, you rest, smelling your hands while you cold stare me…
You want hard..you spit to me, and want hard…all lit up on fuck
From across the room you want to sit in a corner, deep inside yourself
..and me adjacent, staring, like a cunt..I’m mad

Good morning

I’m all buried in eyes,
Tangled in locks on a morning high, humming and humming and humming…
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful….
I love you like..eh, words…yes, I love you like words, like vocabulary..like breath..like fidgeting and fumbling, stumbling and bumbling…I’m very in love, very very in love,
Good morning to you.

The Skateboarder

Their limbs independent, and democratic

With speed they move through caverns of concrete

All rise to see them land from a spotlight

All silent if they fall from the limelight

Camera flash records history of being brave

To the street you beg to land on, a wide wide slave

The Holy unknown in rails n stairs …and within those rails and stairs they stare,

Similar soldiers flank your side, While the law man chases you from where you reside

Over time, reality jar’

Your bones and your limbs but never your heart, When the sun rises and ledges appear, With the shine from rails to concrete that we fear,

This skateboard’ my weapon my pen and my sword, My dagger my death, my piano, my chords

This WordPress.com site is the bee's knees