Poetry

Take and take and take and

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So this is where you’ve taken me
On the edge of your time, your space, your conditions
And I bend over to see what’s down there
But not too far, not too bent, not sure
About that hand of yours, resting on my back

That hand that has led me, brought me, hit me, loved me
Found places I thought were dead, did not exist
That hand that I still feel hot, burning, searing
When it’s gone to another one’s secrets
That hand that has never belonged to me

So this is where I stand
On the edge of my will, my reason, my desire
And as wide and open that my canyon is
As full and available I let it be
You will never bend over to see what’s down there

There is a taker
Does not necessarly mean
There is a giver

Why did you come here?

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It was just to see, just to see, all the things you knew, I’d written about you.

But you never came back. Still, you are around. Still, you talk.

The two worlds travel side by side. You are stuck in reality.

I am stuck in the words, again.

Images, moving images. Flying sounds carrying your voice.

I am surrounded by you, separated by the waves.

I made room, too much room when you leave.

One play, one role, one line.

Cut. Let’s get rid of the script, for once.

When the lights go down, when the make up comes off, let’s escape.

Take your path. To my parallel world.

Drips

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From my fingers
From my eyes
From my heart
Between my legs

All the drips converge. They mean the same thing. Fusion of my fluidity.

I am water. I am blood.

I realize that everything I’ve tried to put into compartments actually belongs together.

The reasons for this, the explanations for that.

The noise… of course it won’t stop. It’s the perpetual garbage truck.

And it’s the drips.

I fucking ache at times.

I fucking leak.

The frayed ends of sanity

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Just flirting with paranoia. Just sweet talk in my ear.

I’ve created I think.

A space, a time.

Angers, justifies, explains.

The eyes, the minds that judge me.

I am alone, I am surrounded.

I drown within the black of my hopes.

I do not falter under the weight of your good conscience.

I am the center, bullseye on my fingers.

I am love, I am embrace, I am despair, I am sorrow.

I will give until I am emtpy, weather there’s a taker or not.

Exercise in psychological distress in anagrams

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precarious-mental-stability

possible-massive-savagery

phantasy-man-slaying

positively-mean-spewing

passionate-member-severing

paradoxical-mellow-swerves

perhaps-means-shit

probably-meant-something

posts-mend-spirit

Femdom

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At my most dominating I feel weak.
At my most submissive I feel powerful.

I could be a goddess.

I tower over him, command him, order him, and still, vulnerability invades me.
I might be playing the wrong part.

I am told to obey, I am shown the way, and I feel strength.
I know this part suits me. At this moment.

I could be a goddess.

I am ready to give in. Ready to let go. Let go of control.
Teach me what I need to learn.

I give power back.
At my most submissive.

I am a goddess.

F5

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Refresh. Reload.
You have 0 unread messages.
0 comments.
0 pageviews.
Inbox (0).

It’s been five days.
I’m in a bad spot, I won’t reply.
Now, you reply.
Now, you reach out.
I reach you. I reply.
Inbox (0).

How many days this time?
F5
F5
F5
Inbox (0)

Through, in, over

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How deep can the division be.
Between.

night and day
real and dream
written and said
thought and meant

How long can I keep the walls from closing in.
On me.

How long before your ghosts wake me.
Wake me.

This is stop and go at it’s most cruel state.
Moving on and leaving so much behind.
Staying and waiting and hoping.

The divison, the duality.
So close, the wall paper thin.

As I lay my face on it.
I feel the warmth of yours on the other side.

Unmovable. Unfillable. Uncrossable.
The wall. The hole. The divide.

The Kiss

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What about that first kiss, when the world disapeared and only his breath kept you alive?

What about the taste on your tongue as you licked your lips hours after he was gone?

What about the smell that lingered on your sweater, still hidden in the drawer? What about the swoon of the hearth when you bury your face in it and catch a glimpse of his scent?

What about the blue of his eyes? What about the clouds that stopped moving while you thought you were looking at the sky?

What about the hours spent feeling the ghost of his touch? What about the words that stayed, stay, echo, shout, that makes you want to runaway?

What about the movie in your head, playing until you’re sick, until you can’t take it anymore?

What about the emptiness? Yes, what about the longing to be full again.

What about that first kiss? Long gone, but still printed on your soul?

———————————————

Kiss me kiss me kiss me!
Your tongue is like poison
So swollen it fills up my mouth

Love me love me love me!
You nail me to the floor
And push my guts all inside out

Get it out get it out get it out!
Get your fucking voice
Out of my head!

I never wanted this
I never wanted any of this
I wish you were dead
I wish you were dead

I never wanted any of this
I wish you were dead
Dead
Dead
Dead
-The Cure

Click here to enter

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A question, that I was not able to answer
A question, that I still hear
“What do you like?”
Months, and still
The interrogation is laughing at me
“What do you like?”
And at the time, sitting on the floor
Between his legs, my face resting on his thigh
I could not come up with an answer
“I don’t know, I don’t know”
Even as I said it, I was ashamed
Of myself, of the sound the words made
I still hear it, them
Because I’ve yet to come up with an answer
“What do you like?”
Sport fuck performance anxiety
Tanned tight smooth
Hairless plastic latex covered feelings
Bound branded humiliated underfoot
Dominated submissive trampled
Nothing is real, it’s downloaded
How am I supposed to know?
How are we supposed to know?