Friday, July 17, 2015


Aug. 30, 2014 

The juice dribbles down my chin

From where I bite through the skin
The prick of flesh
And the rush of sweet bliss
The aftermath of a lovefest,
Of feeling the flesh first
The smooth curve against
The palm of my hand,
The hard place
Where the step detached,
Rough against hand and tongue
The wanting, the waiting
The need to have what is
Deep inside where my fingers
Cannot reach, nor my tongue
Until I break through
And let it rush over me,
My mouth unable to contain
All it has to offer
But I want it all,
And drink deep until
I drown in its sticky dripping
Like a honey bear
Consumed by what
He aches for most

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