::Licentious Languidly::

You were playing romantic games of spin the bottle on pebbled stone streets with an old rusting can of soup that you meant to save to keep you warm from fear. It’s liquid languidly making its way down the gutter; a dessert only the ants can fully appreciate as you squat low to the ground awaiting your serpent songs desire. And there it came. Like mist, off the lake, rolling in at dusk covering everything, causing an eerie glow. Your own light clogged within its strings wavering as the mist played a staccato on your heart. Encircling you until all that you could see was it icy demeanor and in that moment it every possibility came true. Like the mist bringing heaven’s gates. And you leaned in and danced bleeding out your tortuous heart on the ground until all that remained was a distant whisper of my name.

Your chains unbound. Your swan song degraded. Enrapture taking over your eyes; a much stronger force than any arrows cupped in the crest of cupids unfurling hand. And as that grey kiss entered you slipping past your lips, filling you, inching past your voice, shrilling you, breaking through our doors and breaking you as you cosmically collide and lay catatonically by its side. Was it the cold that left you behind? When the mist fatally cleared?

Or was it my light that drew you as it came into view from within it’s starched stained encasement of my heart and I distantly drifted into delicate dreams that had nothing to do with mist, or bottles, or spilled ruminates of memories and awoke to blood stained sheets; an abortion of our floridity. And it startled me. Our fruition yet to be conceived and I collapsed into rages of fits brought on by Zeus’ satanically sharpened blots that descended upon me fragmenting me into bits and pieces spread out on the tear sodden floor. Completely come undone.

And you returned with words built for lovers, with x’s and o’s and forget me not scribbled brilliantly on bitter blue clouds preceding you in the sky. But there was a snake hiding under your collar and I saw its bloody eyes staring back at me as you tried to shake his tantric rhythm controlling your lips but its tail could be seen slicing your throat and locking on to your shameful heart. As you asked, “How do I stop?”

At that moment I wanted to run away into woods where witches and wolfs and sweet grandmothers stood but reality had quite the intense hold. So I let go hoping that maybe the puzzle could be glued down this time.

With each day we moved gracefully from lovers to friends and back again trying to maintain a place where we felt safe. I attempted to make my commitment stronger and to blast through walls placed up by grieving mothers who felt my pain and knew there was not much more I could do.

But I tried.

I laid with you, skin to skin, and tried to disway the images and thought that flew into my mind but their intrepid skeletons haunt your body making it so that every time my fingers lay on their ghastly shell I am forced to quickly disembark. I fell into darkly draining clogged up tears as I curled into you convinced that one way or another I’d make it through that forest and reawaken myself. So I squinted my eyes to blocked out that blazing sun that tempted to destroy me, closed up every memory and forced myself to forget everything. And I released with biting equity as what I thought would solve everything shattered on to the floor as grief took hold.

I laid numb and out of breath heaving for something to save me from myself. My muscles tensed as my insides screamed to be redeemed batting invisible fist against your chest.

I laid numb out of breath heaving for something to save me from myself. Why didn’t that can point you back home to me? Tell me, why did the can lead you away to her?

Can you see the illusion in the mist?

*Image by c2photo

::Anticipated Reprise::

Someone had told her she to carries time around on her chest as a reminder to never rest and so her heart kept going till the point where she gives up the chance to believe in anything real. Cause time seemed something to conceal. With it’s sandy arms marching out a staccato in her mind, it’s hypnotic rapture devoiding her of everything that is kind, it’s steadfast requiem taking her till she is blind.

It makes sense that she sits lonesome longing to be entwined with someone. Anyone, that is not carrying time around their chest and instead of building sand castle, idolizing the past, they put that all on blast, again and again. Destroy and laugh. Create and stand back. Instead of building sanctimonious monuments so the world knows you exist, blow up that shit… and start all over again. And laugh with that wit that reminds you that the sun does rise after it has disappeared by your side. Come rain or come shine.

And you can hear her heart ticking away at time, waiting for someone. Waiting, like some like me, down in New Orleans. Not sure if their fate will end down some muddy river bank, another unrecognized face. Or if they have done enough, believed enough, to feel blessed enough to rise. To rise into the sky past these unjust lie, to another city, another town, to turn that clock back around. As if it never happened. As if it were so easy to forget time’s debt.

And what would happen if we accompanied death instead listening to the witches of Macbeth. Would we be walking to our graves or would we rise out the ground for the zombie revolution to take place; finding out we aren’t really dead. It was just the next phase; our evolutionary grace.

And in the ground a clock still grows but this time things aren’t so dire, cause the seconds glow, and if you look close you’ll notice those aren’t numbers. And they never were really there.

But, I don’t know if she sees it or if she ever will cause she holds that clock clutched to her because it’s all she has known. And with sovereign eyes she waits for the zombie apocalypse to arrive.

*Image by aimeelikestotakepics

:: Ignited Reveries ::

I let myself free fall into the depth of who you are and I hope that you won’t engulf me completely

Cause even as I feel myself loosing air I stay there.

And there is a light that I am receding from slowly in the molasses of your soul and it doesn’t take long for me to realize that there is no going ‘home’.

But death isn’t as unromantic as it may seem.

And sometimes falling in love is like shattering the American dream

of what was suppose to be

like pictures pinned up in 1917 saying “We want you” and secretly we kind of disagreed.

Because there were pictures that we had yet to create of a world where there wasn’t so much hate. Where I could say, “Yes, this is my wife” without turning heads. Without feeling a knife. And as everything goes black and the fear sets in all the colors begin to reappear. I find myself caught up in the beauty and the magic and the grace and our secret meeting place and for a moment I forget for some that this is my tragedy but I only see you.

And nothing else.

And I let go.

And I reset myself.

And for now there is only this moment and I hope someone does not pull me up out of this sea. Thinking they’re saving me. Thinking they are setting me free.

Believe me, there is no other place I’d rather be.

And I know me. Yes, I finally know me. And no it’s not through loving you, and no it’s not through hating a few and no it’s not through being alone cause trust me that marquee was wrong. And yes, I’ve been cold withdrawn into my own little world.

How is it I feel like I have been reborn. Experiencing the world for the first time again shattering the amnesia that once had a hold.

And when I feel your skin so soft on mine I want to stop the world. I want collapse upon your skin and fall asleep on the soft parts of you and climb the mountains of the hard parts of you and wonder what built a grand canyon there. Such a grand canyon it is. Cause in every ounce of pain a bit of beauty flairs. And what we remember is how we’ve grown as we let go of our despair and find forgiveness for the ones who tried to force us into depth that didn’t even exist.

So why resist. And I can’t. And I don’t. Instead,

I let myself go, free falling into the depths of you and hoping that you won’t engulf me completely but secretly wanting it all.

:: Hedonistic Heights ::

We are on one another like terminally torridly mangled steel caught in a magnetic storm. Uncontrolled and unforlorn. Anticipating our next destination. We are both hurled forward attempting to avoid lighting buttons in our accidental awakening and pressing 67 instead. Our bodies unfolding immediately upon the closure of the doors as secretly our minds wonder if someone one is watching us behind capped lenses on mirrored walls but the mirrors on the side only grace me with the gift of permission to be a voyeur in your eyes as i kiss you with open eyes surveying your body and how it moves like molten lava rumbling under your core.

With each ring of the bell, admitting we were indeed moving, destroying our omittence of time, we become that much more hurried. My hand spans down your open pants and studded belt, past your neutral boxer and to your cunt. Soaking and pooling around your legs. My fingers hammer into you fast and without restraint as your moans ripple from your lips and I know that as we hit different floors, our sonic song is heard.

There is no time for I love yous, I missed yous, or never let me gos. There is only time for this fuck. My fingers probe further inside your cunt where I want to release the bounds of the treasure that lay in there. I want it to sparkle against your walls and pearl up on my hand.

My hips find that place between your legs lifting so that with each thrust it is as if I had my own secret manifestation arched on my body penetrating your cunt. Yes, I am fucking you in the shallow spot up against the elevator walls and I know by the rings progression that time is fleeting. With the melodic voice of a bulldozer in the haven of a million trees I demand you cum. 63...cum...64....cum...65...cum...and you explode as I slip out leaving your pussy convulsing against it's self. My hand warm with your creme and our fragrance left for others to savor.

You didn't even bother to button your pants or fix your belt that is only slightly visible through your shirt surveying a impermeable insuffurable yearning yet to be dispelled completely. Our eyes meet others as we soakenly stroll out the elevator not looking back. I smile saying, "Here's my door. I've got to go." You smile too. I don't know if I will see you later. Tonight. Tomorrow. At all. But I sure hope I do. For this.

And so much more.

* Image by ~henriklj

:: Revolving Requiem ::

You captured a picture of me that reminded you of her and you put it up on your wall and told me that it had never occurred to you that I resembled a girl from days long ago but I saw it and I didn’t let go of that fact that maybe you loved her more than you did me.

On cherry street, Do you remember?

How you dressed my ears with rosaries of incomplete promises strewn on repetitive lines of time and how you’d be the one to finally break that lie saying “just cause he died doesn’t mean you can’t survive” and I believed you.

Like a broken down follower on Jezebel street.

And I believed you as I followed you down yards and all about town. You were my light and with the incompetence of a moth I burned myself harder than Jesus up on that cross believing biblical lips that sparkled like gold when you spoke, each gesture came unreserved like a book laid on it’s back unafraid to break it’s spine to revel the right signs and I went left when you said left and your holy words never told me wrong until they did I came unfurled. In the pictures that you captured of me and I was nothing more than something here to bless your inadequate degree.

A photographic inequality. Lying in my eyes. Lying in my smile? Is she creeping in the shadows of my golden face? You are such a disgrace. But then again, so am I, cause here I stay when every ounce of me says pray, to be redeemed, for her to not be like me, for these unspoken words not to disagree, for this dream to not have been conceived, to know how to fly free.

So I peak at you trying to obtain some newly awakened pose that perhaps will reawaken your soul to the uniqueness of my vitality and let you know how you stole the breath out of my life years ago and how much I regret the fact that one of these days we might exchange place.

And I’ll be painting pretty pictures of a not forgotten face emblazed in my eyes; this seems to be my unrequited fate. My disrupted reverie. And I wait for my revolving requiem to play.

:: Microfantasy Monday XI :: (Illicit Lust Part IX) ::

:: Illicit Lust VIII:: Continued...

We move down the hallway with soft peddling feet and enter into the dimly lit courtyard. Nothing has stopped form before and even our entrance into all this ferocity is side stepped for each and every selfish attainment of satisfaction. Each person still maintaining there own little world until Mistress blows a whistle, pulled form her voluminous breasts, stopping everyone right where they are. It seems I didn't understand my Mistresses role until just now. She didn't just own me. She owned each and every other person standing around.


"It's time."


Everyone very quickly tosses the remaining bits of clothing clinging to their bodies and form a circle around the three of us in an even flow.


"Now."

The young slave girl scurries off returning with items sealed in a large leather bag.

I feel exceedingly vulnerable with this much attention on every inch of my naked body I want nothing more than to just run. I lean into my mistress just slightly with a great deal of innocence and she swiftly pushed me forward separating me from the comfort of her skin.

I look down at the ground. Embarrassed at my inability to maintain hold of myself.

It's one thing to put on a show an another to be the absolute center of the world.

I hear clamoring behind me of metal objects and other instruments whooshing in the air.

"Kneel."

And I drop to my knees uncertain of what will happen next.


"Some time ago you came to me wanting to learn and grow and love me, your Mistress and here you are now. Here. Now is the time. A choice has to be made. "

"You have been my acting slave but now the question is do you really want to be my slave alone. To do as I say without question. To leave your old world completely behind and grow within mine."

"I promise to give you the very best but believe the best is in my judgement and not within yours."

"I have to tell you that with this agreement comes a price. It will not be pleasant and there is nothing I can do about it if you accept but I swear it will only be a momentary pain. Pain you can give up and unto me."

"So, do you agree? Will you be my slave?"

My eyes gloss over as I consider all that I had here and all that I have become. I wonder if I really could leave my past behind and start anew. I wonder if she would not keep her promise and later give me away to some unreliable Domme for her use. Loosing control isn't always my forte but it is still something I enjoy and allows me to go to a place that doesn't exist anywhere else. But still as much as I love this.....could I really do this.

I hear her walk around to face me and there she is before my eyes. When I looked up I see nothing but love even though her face remaines hardened where she stands. I knew it is because she needed to keep up the game, yet her soul speaks of what she really desires piercing right through to my own. That I be hers.

And I stammer out,


"I am yours."


She smiles and I want nothing more than to reach out the her and pull her toward me but I resist and instead I fold down into slave pose with my body long and pressing into the ground with arms and fingers extended reveling at her feet. Her heel finds it's place in my back and pressing lightly. Enough to reassure me.



"Stay there....."

....... to be continued








*image by ZKCproject

:: A Daring Dedication::

Don’t you go down that street. Make a left. Make a right. Go around this daunting feat past the oblivious roads that round about in your eye. Could you even stand behind? Cause the ghost of it still haunts this very sight and you’ve got such a beautiful mind I fear you’d get lost within it if you didn’t make a left. Make a right. Go around. Go around and round making circles in my eyes. Your hips sway like a pendulum keeping track of time, keeping place, keeping faith and I never did forget your face.

Swollen like a melon on the forth of July with celebration cascading from your lips as fireworks ignited inside. I keep coming back for more in my apparent greed to concede to not believe that you are gone. I mean with a name like grace it seemed the god’s had made a mistake. Artemis! Apollo! Who believed in gods anyway.

But I did.

I saw them hiding, creeping in the shadows of your face when the light would strike there or you saw a butterfly float by or you laughed until your insides pulled me within. You were so innocent.

And the innocent shall we reborn. Or so I’ve heard.

I hope it’s true. Cause ever time I see a butterfly I think it’s you.

It’s just that when I go walking down that way everything replays like some broken recorder dropped in the middle of the street and I can only see what my eyes say I see. It’s not pretty. It’s not ok.

Cause when those towers fell I felt myself go empty inside as I eyed my pride sitting lonesome by the waterside like some vagabond in 1928 not quite seeing what the world had next in store for him. Surprise.

But you were survived.

By me.

And baby I promise you that one of these days I’ll metamorphis out my gilded cage and embrace the sun with blazing love like Icarus cause this can not be undone, or replaced, or dismissed with dismay and yes I still feel you with me each and everyday.

And sometimes I wish I could erase that consequence for our defense. But I wouldn’t in a million years. I wouldn’t if it could dry up all the tears. I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to hear it year after year cause, did you see how so many strangers dropped, fell to their knees and found god, and found you, and I, and themselves and themselves they had left behind.

Grace seems to have brought us back to a more innocent place.

So let’s celebrate.

The smiles. The laughter. The joy. The bliss.

Let’s kiss. To her. To him. To the life within this body remaining whole. Remaining Firm.

Thank Zeus. Thank the gods.

Thanks for this.