Stained upon his skin.

She let him in.

And that's where the start

Began

To

Begin...


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There's this...

Feeling.

When he squeezes

That which he has cupped.

A pain akin to the hurt caused

By not always giving a fuck.


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She pauses in the doorway

Regarding him on her bed.

Almost naked with hands

Bound above his head.

He casts his eyes towards her

Watching the slow approach of her form.

His mouth begins to water...


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   written years ago

Four photos of me from the old day...

The ones making the boxes

Say they're designed to protect.

Thing is, while they're busy 'protecting' whatever,

Who protects the other one

From hem?


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Likes putting his big weight on their naked chests,

Make them lose their breath

Knowing they cannot breathe.

Deep in their holes

After deep-throating their toes

And worshipping at their feet.


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Tongues silent and scarred from bites

Your cage has grown robust.

Close your eyes, if you must.

We're back naked side-by-side.

With your arm under my neck

In the twilight.


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I smell his sweat and candy

A sweet bar of soap.

Foam covering his hands 

And

In the mirror, a glimmer of hope.


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Pinching the ribbon, he pulls it

Pressing flat its satiny shine.

His gaze, like honey, oozing over her skin,

He's in the mood to take his time.
Soundless, she looks down at him

Kneeling beside her bed...


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And what now?

No surprises

Left unsaid

Sleeplessness until the sun rises.

To want some sort of yielding

A break

In the feelings.


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Reuptake

I dodged and burned

Put marks upon your arm

And then I 

Hit shred.

Digital is easy

Just got to wipe the data from my head.


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And as He sighs

He reminisces to Himself

Before tightening the binds.

He professes it frees Him of His mind.

What he doesn’t confess is this -

It's fucking on it all the damn time.


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Apparently, I don't have a heart.

Which is useful, really

'Cos it can't be torn apart.

Apparently, I don't have feelings.

So, what I want

Has no meaning.


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