Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Unbound




1

You touch the lip
Of  the glass
With the tip
Of your tongue
And I squeal
Not the glass
The vibration
Shaking every
part of me
Until I ache
My gaze locked
Into your gaze,
You gaze laughing
Each blink
A new sliver through me
I want to drink you up
Sucking all of you
Down deep into me
Filling all those
Gaps I feel
When you’re not there
Flooding myself with you
Until I am unable
To breathe,
Or think
Or be


2

Once I was satisfied
Being n one
A statue in a window
Hands poise,
Motionless,
Doing what ever
Someone told me
To do,
My mouth slightly
Opened but always
Empty of words,
Crying without sound
For someone like
You to move me


3

Life ties my hands
Behind my back,
Telling me to behave,
Then sticks a rag
In my mouth
To keep me quiet
Then proceeds to do
What ever it wants,
Whipping up
Every imaginable
Torture inside and out,
I can even cry for mercy,
Sometimes, you just
Have to go with it,
Having faith
That in the end
No permanent damage
Is done, except
To my ego


4

I like being absurd
The lone rock
Twisted into the brain
Until the nerve end tingle
Hot coals burning
Until it produces love,
And like a lobster
I don’t know what
Is too hot
Until it’s too hot
Slipping into that
Condition,
One slow degree
After the next


5

I sip tea and taste you
In the cup so deep
My tongue aches
To reach the bottle,
A cup full of tea leaves
I can only read
By running the tip
Of my tongue over
Each rough ridge,
And still you remain
A mystery that defeats
All of me,
Except my senses,
The warmth of each sip
Rushing through me
Stirring me up
As if I become the cup
That holds you,
I sip you and
Over flow with you,
Gushing from every pore
A lust for living
I can never control
And often
Don’t want to.

6

You say your hands are tied
So you can’t help me
Yet if I found them bound
I could help myself,
Sweet sucking from the
Marrow of life,
Probing deep with lips parted
Or hungry fingers,
Going deep into places
My gaze could not,
To lick the lip
Where the nectar drips,
Or trip the tip
Where I ach to lick,
The pointed peaks
Not purple but pink,
Hard bits that poke up
And challenge me
To mount them,
Raising me up
Only to cast me down
Bound and unbound,
Exposed and laid waste,
You unable to help me
Because you say
Your hands are tied.


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