threesome

moon peeks slowly orange glow beautiful at two in the morning

we inebriated on thoughts on old angers and accusations

moon she shows cleavage through silks and laces tailored for her by the Venus

we savage with our voice one fist raised above the other torn lapels teary eyes your cut knuckles my need to run

moon swells enormous pregnant by the Mars no weeping in her labor she knows how to raise the stars

we impassioned and raged swell in our erotic locations kissing negotiations the climax nears the horizon

moon wanes with satisfied relief and the pinkest carnal flush

animals

you gray eyes dripping

dangerous thoughts i am woman

we just want a bite

after the X show

the soft cool feather strokes of breeze fingered through my shaggy tangled hair teasing out a kaleidoscope of red highlights

the muddy booted covered feet carried my dirty denim wrapped carcass through the termite riddled door into his wool upholstered army cot where he kept 3 golf clubs

we kissed wildly like two beasts on the savannah interlocked in that battle to the death right before they cut to the Mutual of Omaha commercial

love i wondered as he pawed at me what was it while his teeth searched for my young girl bits

it wasn’t like the movies nor was there flirtation or sexy anticipation like in Bei Mir Bistu Shein

then he stopped my eyes still closed and my tongue lapping in the dark

i need a cigarette he whispered can i bum one i rasped

what is love do you think i dealt out my rhetorical grunts

an almost neon silhouette of his broad shoulders shrugged against the poker faced moon

rouge

hot rhythm

pulses my middle

heat kisses my begging thighs

lava tongue spinning salacious

rivers of lust along my woman valley and into the navel of my heart

in your eyes

dew sets on single flowers to brew a scent that will waken a sweet child like chaos in your eyes

just like our simultaneous pleasure propelled from the steepness of our throats

so do your eyes open like the flower to cast a honeyed gray net upon my will

while on your arms i walk alone afraid of wanting more of the white hot thrusts into my sinning soul

i have no shame or guilt or debt i give myself completely let your fingers lead me to the green mile of your eyes

let me serve as your last meal before you move on to the next

and when you’re done i’ll lick you clean i’m ready to be tossed unto the dying wind gambling that this time the pain will end forever

who’d a thought

is there such a thing as joy i don’t know what does the experience feel like is it velvety like your graying pubic hairs tickling my back does it taste like your Jack Daniel’s tongue with a Winston smokey chaser down my throat i want to say it looks like your strong rough hands with tiny scars on the tops and intricate lines on the palms of your warrior hands does joy smell like your sweat fossil grease gun powder breeze and the wind of America in your hair i bet joy sounds deep and blue like when you recite beautiful lies in my ears

Christmas Eve 93′

hot chocolate candy canes almond cookies apple wine

red bra black leather pants black stilettos two blue eyes

one green eye hazel on the left scratches cuts and bruises

he wonders how she got em’ but too afraid to ask

instead he holds her tighter cus in the end she’s always gone

in the middle of the night he gets up pees and scratches his ass

just big boy that no bride could tie down

she slightly opens up her mouth gaping like a baby bird

and he sneaks quietly into her arms catches a whiff of patchouli from her hair

two wet paper winged angels just hoping for some love

Dionaea muscipula

flowers are nice but i didn’t get them often the guys i dated weren’t romantic i guess it’s ok i get me flowers now and again i do love a good road trip and the feel of wind in my hair i’ve never been one to lend herself to tight long hugs it frightens me or when i got to like it they left me its best to kiss first wham bam thank you man and then run away forever i love a nice juicy philosophical conversation or if i could find someone like Tesla i admit that it gets tricky when lust calls but he wants a commitment and i’m not prepared to fold so i’ll walk and i’ll think i’ll paint and i’ll stall i’ll fly and i’ll land in his nest when he is vulnerable

train is nigh

end of battle

tired can’t sleep

life full

of non-sequiturs

non-sense and violence

cheap sex never love

or very little

pelvises copulating mid air

no connection to the heart

always flying soaring

to nothing

rules put-downs and judgments

torn down by the veracity of my past

hard to imagine

process logic fire lover

too tired

no lifting cups tonight

war pipes away

needles of deception

found out today

air in the mid night clear

love not supreme enough for me

Coltrane our train is nigh

Venice beach man

i love the way you look at me

almond blue eyes laden with innocent sin

i love the way you steal a kiss from me

and sometimes hold me down

by my cat-like wrists

and tell me how you’ll take me

i love the texture of your ear

on my tongue rugged and sun burnt

crisped by the sea salt and the sand

i love to hear the song

of your primitive throat when you cum

i love how you scold me when i’ve had

one too many of the L36s

and i respect you

as a man who tells it how it is

with compassion while you grieve

for the slow motion death of my free spirit