love, poetry, rhyming, romance, self, sex, thoughts, Uncategorized

This dark slumber

I’ll remind you of the touch my hand,

Ahead of thousands of seconds that pass by

Our rosy young cheeks and cheeky tongues.

Remind me that you were mine,

With round eyes colored by ocean waves.

Bless me with a waking morning soon

When we are not parted by a dozen moons.

Find me sleeping with our words and punctuation

Under a bridge of running, unbridled water,

Wake me gently from this dark slumber.



life, poetry, sex, sexuality, thoughts, Uncategorized

Blanket Math

Cold moans begin to kiss my back

It’s arched and I groan and my neck goes flat

I fiercely hold onto an old blanket

And find it’s wrinkled like blank pages

I sting and open my dry mouth wide

While my stomach turns around to hide

Sweating and moving in rhythm

Can’t seem to forget that I love him

Heated nothings lukewarm on my throat

Someone wraps around me like a coat

Sitting in silence is the only cure

The blanket, wrinkled, is my lure

Goosebumps even though it’s eighty

Hot as hell but this someone’s eyes are shady

Too tired to move, too dry to laugh

I repeat the cold, but can’t do the math

life, love, passion, poetry, sex, thoughts, Uncategorized

Working for the Long Nights

Let’s just have a bit of fun

So that neither of us have to take the plunge

I’ll appease you

Until you decide that this is through

I’ll love you

For six years or more

Until I feel like nothing but a whore

Wonder if you’re real or not

Until I’m consumed with complete distraught

And when I move on to the East

Your music will fill my ears

Fame will hit you hard

And I will be far, far, far

life, love, sex, thoughts, Uncategorized

A lot of people talk about love.

A lot of people talk about love. They say that it isn’t about needing someone, it is about accepting someone, that it’s this and that and isn’t this and that, and what they do and don’t know about it based on some great, grand, or sometimes minimal experience they’ve had (and maybe, maybe they’ve had good, even great sex somewhere in there).

It makes me think that really, there is no such thing as love.

If there was such a thing as love, we would see it. It would be tangible. We could wake up in the morning, pick it up, put it in our pockets, and throw it away when finished. If there was such a thing as love, we would be able to hold it when we wanted it, and let go when we were tired of the weight of it.

If it existed, we wouldn’t doubt the influence of love. If we were able to know that love was a 100% scientific fact, then the acceptance of love would be easy for us.

If there was such a thing as love, we would document it and observe it and store it in tube containers and say “This is sample LOV1.2!” or something like that. We could poke at it with a toothpick or scalpel.

If it were real, we would be more certain.  We would understand how it worked.  We would know it was there.

Wouldn’t we?