Do you have any idea how lonely

waiting for you is?

this tick and tock timing

that brings me to my knees

wanting what my heart whispers

unsure of my welcome

or how long I must wait?

What do souls truly want

and why can they not see

what is ahead

and around the curb?

Why block my view

of you somewhere waiting

when the sight

would most certainly make

me that much more determined?

Why must I climb these crevices

with sharp bleeding and endless tightening

of fingers holding ground

as I cling so fiercely

to my last glimpse of you?

When will my climb be rewarded

with a hand I long to pull me

shaking, to soft and welcoming ground,

the soft grass at your feet

the only bed I long to sleep in.

Nice, Jason!

The words make me shiver

they travel my spine

and make my voice hitch

and my eyelids fall

that touch smooth touch that lingers

and finds a fold of skin

softness and pressure

the warmth of a palm

laid close to bared skin

despite the passion

I feel a giggle

joy makes my heart laugh

I seek your eye

and find it preoccupied

with other delights

the hands linger overlong

and I am tempted to play seductress

to your well written

symphony and prose

well thought words

as you murmur in my ear

the words that make

me feel beautiful

and wanted.

Thank you (((Mirror & s1ow )))

Sometimes thoughts awaken me

trembles making much of nothing.

Imagination can sometimes create

whole scenarios that are not real

yet seem, in moments dark

like possibilities.

I reach for your hand

in the darkness

and finding it

am reminded

that I am not alone.

My heart relaxes with awe

for even asleep

you comfort me,

my squeeze returned

like kisses in the deep of dark.

This is why I often wake you

to make love,

for my body craves you.

Even in sleep

you are that which makes me tremble

that which makes me quiver

that which makes me need to touch

and long

with singular focus

to return that message

to eyes awakened

in surprise turned to passion.

I have a sneaky smile

that comes out sometimes to whisper

as my hands trace your chest

and steal the buttons

from your shirt.

Why wear a shirt at all?

I will only seek to remove it.

I know you would laugh

and tell me

that my taking it off

is why you put it on

in the first place.

You are so real in my head

why aren’t you in my bed?

Wonderful write (((H)))

When you whisper in the dark

no matter where I am

I hear you

My heart feels the echo

and my soul knows the sound

of the words you speak

eloquently uttered

with tender quiet passion

as you close weary eyes to sleep

and utter in your sleeping breath

that which you long

most deeply for.

I hear you

and in my last whisper

before sleeping,

I answer,

with longing

of my own.

I have the same problem...

Stingray tapdance malted thunderbolt.
Diffused light winfield landslide
thunderbolt raffia.
Tapdance rococo beige.

Topgun ryetoast
royale fashion place wicker.
Success chocolate.
Tender grey upbeat mushroom.

Soft nutmeg summer smoke
monk’s hood bushwhacked cloudswept paperbag.
Upbeat quarrystone.

Wineberries embrace.
Pioneer’s mesa cameo mist.
Timeless beige.

Salsa chaps winter dusk.
Pink spangles diamond dust.
Cobra viper essence.

Thank you so much

(((James & LA )))

Feeling so much numb…I am
Throwing all the emotions out of myself
Still hidden fears and tears that tear me up
Dislocated I feel and dislocated my heart.

Going through all these hardships
I am unable to live like this,
Bounded I am and I have to live
With all these fears and tears I lock in my heart.

Why people are asking me that I look so dumb?
I don’t want to hear these things I say I am what I am
Why I am hiding this pain within my heart?
Why I am lying all of them that I am alive?

Dislocated I feel on this earth that I am unable to live
Dislocated I feel That I am not made to be live?
But why I can’t find any answer I had to live.
How many days I am surviving like this?

Couldn’t share my problem with anyone,
I am smiling and laughing after such a disaster.
Unable I am and hopeless I feel.
I am totally dislocated, wholly dislocated
Dislocated heart this is…

P.S. I am unable to live
Waiting for someone to make me alive

Thank you:
Mega
shortie
Harold
bastet
kc

(((H)))

I curse
my mind, sadist to my kneeling brain. Drained of
energy, muscles fight, strain to stand. The earth went
on without me, spun around again to light. Get cereal.
Make coffee. Fight


eyelids. Look at the yard. I envy the ivy. To crawl down under
those green arrowheads, to stay unseen in the all-day shadows,
a quiet neighbor to spiders and moles. To stretch straight under
quaking vines and see the sky blink when the wind blows.


There’d be no sign of me under the giant pine. Pressed against the
grass, crawl in increments of inches into that small space between
the lowest branches and the ground. To anyone around I’d stay
invisible, flat on spongy needles, enveloped by the scent and shade.


I could trade the world for that space under the porch behind the
trellis. Fall in love with the smell of rotten leaves and must. Maybe
sleep beside the ancient Frisbee. Curl up between the cold smooth
dirt and the weight of the house in the wooden planks above.


I could shove myself on hands and knees into the eaves, dark
arcade of oak, a cloud of odor like old books. The slightest
shift in weight would create small dust clouds. Wings of webs
would connect me to floor and roof.


Cleared out, there might be enough room under the kitchen sink.
Chin to knee, bent like a question mark, hear the faucet’s
infrequent drip, feel cold metal, taste rust. Savor closed
eyes in the comfort of the cupboard’s cold dank air. But
it’s not where


it’s when. And there seems to be no end to the
brain’s simmering boil. It runs like a motor low
on oil, burns and scrapes. The pistons begin to
seize. Things get slow but somehow go on. My
thoughts snake the house for places I know I’d
not be found. The attic, a closet? No, too easy. It
doesn’t matter, my body takes my mind’s side.
It doesn’t matter what place I take. I
could hide, but I’d
be hiding wide awake.

Fantastic doesn't even begin to describe it

Thank you (((H & LA )))

Framed into
perfection
indeed, my secret
lover, and I.

Unmindful of
a trap
blindly adored
by hungry eyes.
A mocking illusion
to capture
foolish glances
unwittingly thrown.

And, the constant
echoes of
freedom
whispering
secretly.
Envied,
above and beyond
the comfort of lucid dreams.

I heard,
my secret lover
calling after
my soul.

I, and my
Secret lover own
moments born from
glorious feasts
adorned with
symphony’s breath.
discreetly
pursued by obsession.

Yet still, I
never learn
how to dance with
My secret lover.

Some, seeing, need to say it –
the unknown, the known unsaid, the
blank map, the fascination, the dread.
Follow the invisible thread.
Befriend oblivion.
Say: There is a hunger that must be fed.

Some, seeing, need to say it –
the frenzied lovers, the penis poised, the noise
of a panther’s meat-hungry mouth as it feeds.
Say: Lust is life. It leads and we are led.

Some, seeing, need to say it –
the secret meeting when the
street’s asleep, all those lovers, the
appointments they keep.
Say: Risk is everything, it’s sweet with fear. We
play follow-the-leader though the price is clear.

The pen is poised , the paper needs.
Whatever joy or pain it gives we
burn for that truth
without which nothing lives.