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.