Desultory and Impulsive

That said... much love to the individual who nominated me as well as to the one who nominated me for being all poetic.

Seriously. Thank you.
:rose:
 
I don't masturbate to thoughts of what I've done with her. I masturbate to the thoughts of what I'm yet to do with her.
 
I want to dominate
A woman
That wants to be dominated
And
Make her feel humiliated
Without her feeling so
Because
That's what she wants

To
Hold her head
By
Her hair
And force her
To lick
The piss
Streaked rim
Off the cold white porcelain
The smell of acrid relief
Coating the back of her tongue
And top palate of her mouth
Anticipating the warm wash
Of my emptying bladder
In juxtaposition
To the cold surface
Of the toilet

Washing
Rinsing
The sins of her whore slut face
In the swirling whirlpool waters
Flushing
Everything she hates about herself
All the while
Adding
To what she wants
All the more.

I need that
Just to feel her like that

And see her
And kick her in the side
Like
The cum slab piece of shitmeat
That she is

That she longs to be



God to do that
To fuck a woman like that

And leave her like so


Toilet lid over her face
Coughing
Crying
Gasping for air.
 
I wish there was something remarkable about me.

Something real
In real life

Not just
Some
Fantasy

Or
Concept
Or
Idea

...idea of.



I'm tired.

Profoundly tired.
 
Have I linked this before? Don't care.

I've always found this song (and all versions) sexual in a way that really can't be explained.

Many a summer
Late night driving

Just myself and a mixed tape in the tape deck of my car.

Just driving
And listening

It's such a feeling
Always just out of reach

But it's there
 
I am going to part her legs
And press my lips against her body
I'm going to taste her
And breath her in

She will be familiar to me
Yet new

Unexplored.

I am going to kiss her
And take her nipple into my mouth

There
I will feel it become erect
And my tongue
Will slide across it
Curl just under it
Cradle it
And she will feel the pull of my suck.

I am going to make love to her
And fuck her
And think thoughts of her
With her right there
Before me

And like a heavy quilt
She will feel the weight of me
Around her
In her

I will feel her
Surround me
And I will press my weight down upon her
My hands
Upon her sternum
Pressing down
Above her breasts
Below her neck

And I will watch
For the flush of her throat
...her face

I will pace myself
Edge myself with her body
Thrusting up on her inhale
Then out upon her exhale

And this will go on
While I look at her
Watch her
Painting her lips with my eyes
Running my hand up along her face
Feeling the soft length of her hair
As I bring the ends of it down
To brushstroke the flesh her breast.
 
attachment.php
 
That last poem was quite lovely, y.

The photo, too, though I've spent too long trying to read into the positioning of your hand...
 
That last poem was quite lovely, y.

The photo, too, though I've spent too long trying to read into the positioning of your hand...

Thank you.

The positioning of my hand was below my navel, just above my dick and about to slide lower just as she parted her legs shortly after the photo was taken.
 
I've a confession...

I've fallen ill with what's been going around at work and dread the thought of going to bed knowing full goddamn well I'm going to wake up feeling 20 times worse.


That is all.
 
I'm sick
In need of an orgasm
Yet lack the interest of pursuit.

Send help.
 
She never fancied herself as one of those nurses

But it was that part of her shift
Where all were punch drunk and gone off into their own little worlds.

And she was alone
With him

His body
Comatose and intubated
 
He was there
But he wasn't

She knew about him
Why he was there
What happened

She knew his family
Met his mother
His wife

Watched them
Was with them
Watched him
...for them.

She knew his stats
His saturation
Cleaned his ports
His body
Prepped him for surgeries
...shaved his face.

She knew him
But she didn't know his voice
Or his laugh.
 
She took his hand into hers
He was still warm
His heart
Still beat

He was relaxed
And he felt
...welcoming.

She knelt down
Wanting to be closer

It was stupid
But it felt right

His hand
Wasn't hers
To bring to her lips
But she did anyway
Just as how
She had seen
So many wives
Mothers
Daughters
Fathers and sons do


For them to be there
Where she was
Was always

...always

To tell them goodbye.
 
A rhythm of dead air
Was pushed into his lungs
By the ventilator
She had long become
Numb to the sounds of

His body
Inflated

Paused

Then deflated.
 
She studied his hand
The size of it
In hers

How it
Even as it was
...relaxed
Made her feel

Small
Protected.

She imagined
...for a moment

The strength of it
What it
...what he
Was once so capable of

And she found herself
Wondering
What his embrace
Once felt like



She stood in the hallway
Pondering the dishes
In the kitchen sink

Quietly
His arms
Threading up from behind
Under her own
And her body

His hands
Cupping her breasts
Squeezing
With secure confidence of possession

Sounds of her voice
Playfully saying "be serious now"
While stepping away
But wanting to be taken

...just a little bit.


She studied his hand
Closed her eyes
Clasped it in such a way a lover would
And felt the back of it
With her cheek.
 
She put his hand down
Stood up
And with the grace of a mother
She tucked his sleeping body
Back under the covers.

With her shift over
She would leave

His wife would come in
Give the doctor the final order

And she would never see him again.
 
Back
Top