Waking up

Eye's open.
See face.
Post a quizical look.
Spark of recognition reanimates the face.
Stupid smile at face, wave at face, mouth hello at face.
All for the face to face.
Eye sight, eye line, eye to eye.
Connection.
Face answers back, don't know you.
Face turns in disgust; turns in disapointment, dejection.
Face gone.
Why does mirror hate me so?

Enter the room

Starts with a flash,
just a dash,
of flesh.

Silk and lace,
seductive grace;
hands rush, tremble
and race.

Touching skin
under exploring hands.
Lingerie drops to the floor.

Bodies aroused;
clash and mount.
Eager noises
oil the screw.

Ravenous lips, revealing
eager tongues:
tasting nipples, necks
and more.

Contort, retort,
bend, buckle,
spank and tie.

A playful whip
urges a hungry hip.
Then you fuck, buck and kip.

Guilt

You find me in the dark,
I'll be lurking in the shadows,
Prowling the night.
You may denounce me,
But I'll always announce me.

It's the pause in your heartbeat,
The sweat in your hands,
Lump in your throat.
That's my knock at the door.

Spells, charms, locks or bars:
They don't hold me.
I'm never kept out;
I'm already in.

The tap on your shoulder;
Breath on your neck.
My tease to awake you.
Like Jonah you run and try to forget me.
Together, each morning, is where we awake.
Though I never sleep.

I chase,
I hunt:
You're my quarry my prey.
My teeth are sharp, and claws are strong.
Your flesh is weak, easily torn.

Gnawing inside you;
I'm the prison around you.
Where there was action I am result.
And this was your fault.
I will not halt.

What we have done

We weren't crazy,
we weren't young.
But not quite sane, not yet old.

Yet it happened and we let it.
No guilt, no innocence;
just the fact of what we had done.

Yet there was hope, once tears of joy.
And hope has gone; tears no longer joyful.
Cursed by what we have done.

The past is no friend and always a judge.
Escape, we can't and we wont.
Imprisoned by what we have done.

No touch,
No connection,
No more.
No stare without a shameful look away.
Castrated by what we have done.

The sand trickled slowly,
The sun revolved brightly,
Hand rotated carelessly.
And they still do,
Still do.
Unaffected by what we have done.

First I saw you,
then I knew you.
There is a history to what we have done.
But you are silent, and I'm forgetful.
Just what have we done?

Traveller go tell

Traveller go tell:
Of heroism and death, off a richer dust long since concealed.
That they died so you may forget.

Traveller go tell:
Of battle and blood, of victory and defeat.
Where names have long been forgotten.

Traveller go tell:
Of tears and loss, of the widows weep and mothers lament.
A telegram of condolence and folded flag.

Traveller go tell:
Of a whispered voice in the wind, of the echo of young men’s cries.

Traveller go tell…