To Covet

Desire renders one speechless. There is nothing that can be achieved except the prolonging of that deep, consuming ache of an already taut mind.

 It meanders slightly, allowing a glimpse of relief in the memory...

of a hand upon the small of the back, playing incidentally, until a shudder leaves these lips and the body lets it be known its wishes are unseemly.

A finger catches the loop of my jeans and pulls me further in, the heat that is us-my breath hitches-illuminates the hue of our skin as we remove each others clothing moving to the bed.

Skin moves over skin, hands reach out and tongues dance to the sounds of foreign beats. Pleasure and pain are blurred in the lines of our bodies and dominant eyes flash moments of tenderness, as a hand brushes lightly across my breast.

Lips tell a story while only whispering a breath, lingering upon an exposed neck and naked ear, exposing us to our weaknesses before throwing us both from a dizzying height into the writhing folds of each other's weeping flesh.

There is no longer any distinction between what's you and mine. The cacophony of our thoughts brought to life, discord creating some semblance of an honest form of art.

Desire renders one speechless. There is nothing that can be achieved except the prolonging of that deep, consuming ache of an already taut mind.

There is no face I see nor

voice I hear,

I hold on to the branch

that sways,

It carries me with it this

way and that,

I can not find my feet nor

feel my heart,

It has fallen out and lays damaged

on the sodden path,

Where the day before I walked

casually along.

I saw her face for the first time
on a day when the wind itself decided
to play among the streets of London
I was looking from the inside out
hills and valleys shaped my skin
and all I could do was stare and look
away from there I fled to another
scene of sunkissed reasons to move
to California.
Later when all went quiet I found
myself in a mirror staring at her
once more with different eyes
seeing what she could not
possibly know about herself as
I challenged my thoughts I took
a walk in the park down my street
where local dogs walk their owners
insisting they exercise.
After some time I returned to the
sanctury of my soul so revived
I sat down once more recalling her
on a piece of paper I spoke out loud
"You are beautiful"

It catches me by surprise,

a blow to the chin

but the river softens my fall.

I feel it now, the damp,

seeping through my clothes

willing me to stand,

the water running by me,

without a care for the load

it now carries.

Her face fills the space ahead

contorted, distorted, unknown

she offers her hand and

eases me from my pit of despair.

She does not speak a word,

nor do I, but I wrap my fingers

around hers and breath deeply.

It is the last time I feel her touch

upon mine. Her eyes tell a story of

dysphoria and as I breath once more,

I know.

It is the end.

A Shadow Behind The Mask

A connection in a time
when there is a mask
to be worn-decorated
as it is, it still hides
the eyes of the beholder.
These eyes, the windows to
the words that flow from
the pen, are mask
by day and guide
through the shadows
by night.

she sleeps,
guarded by
the very light that seeks
to blind her.
her soft breathing tells
me she is sleeping well,
while my own eyes, burned
by the night light, seek refuge
in my notebook and in the
tender touch of her right palm
against my thigh.
she sleeps unaware-
her role
both the guarded
and Guardian.

I still remember it-
You behind the
church building
sneaking a smoke and a kiss
trying to fondle my breast.

We kissed for hours
Your lips, so soft
but I taught you
how
to use them.

If the devil knew your name

would you court him, let him

in to all your secrets, caress

your breath and accept his lips or
would you grab his balls and give

him the kiss of death he deserves?

I imagine you in fifty years

imagining me and what I

would have been if I did

not become a space cowboy

The girl in the pink hat

Sometimes, when you pass someone in the street you can't help but wonder. I wonder about this girl...so here she is:

The girl in the pink hat did not see me.

Her long flowing hair, which was only slightly constricted

by the offending item, hung over her face,

restricting our views of each other. Yet, I saw her.

I saw her in the slouched jeans,which only enhanced

her round buttocks, in the army fatigue jacket,

that failed to hide her womanly curves,

in her hands, which lay delicately by her sides.

And then...

The wind, as I had wished, had its way with her,

and laid her bare for all to see. She looked up and saw me-

I caught a smile, and content, made my way home.