Clothing is shed there.
The sheets are made,
And remade, folded, and
You know what’s
NOT MADE IN
Any music! That’s what!
I miss my
What do you call Long-term Loyalty
In the Absence of
Friendship and Availability?
I call it:
You may Like me with gestures of kindness,
But your mental distance drains them of Weight,
Turning your Followship into
An empty, hollowed ship
Which doesn’t “float my boat”
Or buoyantly “float in seas”
Only sighted with tools
Designed to scope distantly.
These tools aren’t available to Me,
And neither are You, apparently.
I don’t know why I’m always the
Last One to See such seemingly
Simple and truthful Things.
At least I won’t be haunted by
THE GHOST OF WHAT WAS,
Because The Ghost Who’s Most
Likely to Pursue and Eat
The Scraped and Burnt
Piece of Toast who looks a lot like Me
Is clearly Impressed Easily
By lousy cooking skills and
Solely Verbally-Skillful Attributes;
The latter attributes are the
Only Ones which describe my virtues
Regarding The “Economy Package”
I’m looking for a scientist
who’s mad enough
to clearly grasp this
crazed and crazy concept:
The tiniest of a SKILLFUL micro-stimuli,
With a little effort can provoke
A most magnificent physical response
(I’ve learned this more than once),
As well as ALL shades of
Which Profoundly (and to be honest),
Stimulate, Alliterate, add Satisfy,
While even juggling the time
To Speak in Rhyme
(Let’s call it “The Special Trick
That Works Every Time”).
YOU SNOOZE, YOU LOSE
If I’m asked if I’m down for a Quick Snooze with a Prior Snooze,
Here’s the excuse I plan to use:“
‘Wish No Ill Will’ and ‘All the Best,’
But you’re no different from the rest:
You give way too little far too late,
So I prefer to masturbate
Rather than drown in Drowsy Company.
In fact, the Type of Snooze Which Most Impresses Me
Kindly Erases rather than Increases
My Need for Sleep,
Though I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit:
A Swift, Quick Snooze
I probably wouldn’t refuse
And could provably use, too.
I was a fancy little show pony
Who grew too Larger-than-Life,
So with a Butcher’s knife
(NOT a Paring knife)
I was most inefficiently
Now I do WHAT I can WHEN I can;
This even includes Doing Your Man.
I gave him the Most Galloping Ride,
Then I broke him, so now He’s Mine;
And though he’s already bit me once,
I’m HARDLY twice shy!
I still coax and lure him on
My Fancy-Romancy and
Most Galloping of Pony Rides.
Hey, no need to buck!
I only ever rode him twice.
Tales of Lives in Surf and on Turf, hawked at an Open-Air Meat Market.
STOKE & POKE ♨️
What once was hard now is soft.
Is he showering to just jerk off?
Or am I not what I once was?
He hates it when I bring it up,
But since it’s down I must inquire
What I have done to down Desire.
Am I the person to blame?
I can’t poke or stoke his ashy pyres
To inflame once spicy fires. cause
Sadly they’re now cold and tired.
NOT MY PLEASURE
I think your hopes for flings
Are rooted in fantasy
Rather than reality,
Given your responsibilities,
Worthy and important, too,
And of highest value to you;
It’s not a crime
To spend your time
On the greatest treasures
To your heart and mind.
I understand You’re a man
Who takes matters into hand,
Protecting his peeps and land.
It’s a worthy honor
I don’t dishonor,
Though it neglects
My built-up dreams
To Release screams
Of withheld Pleasure
At my Leisure,
Since I’d imagined
Beyond Wildest Measure.
But of course,
There’s always More
On that score,
At least for me,
Do you ever think of me?
Think of what we used to be?
It’s true our time was very short,
The briefest of carnal cohorts.
Almost thirty years ago,
Yet my mind is always blown
Up, across, and far away,
When I dream upon those days
And reminisce about those nights
In that city filled with lights.
We met by lucky circumstance,
Serendipity, random chance.
You, the older, taught me much.
Your lessons always turned to lust
For I was not a little child.
Fully grown, I’d been defiled.
I had some fantasies to try;
You very graciously complied.
Hot and sweet and rarely sour
Was that summer that was ours.
The Biggest Apple, shined and new,
Was Red Delicious; so were you.
(Thanks @martysanchezz for the photo)
I KNOW WHAT YOU NEED
I haven’t even done it here,
But I know what you need to hear;
Paint the picture, make it clear,
Draw a World of Scary Fears
Then fight them off and hold you close,
Soothe you back with what you know;
Won’t finish till completely through,
And relieved are the likes of YOU!
I know what you need to hear,
I’ll meet you there; it’s very near.
That ticklish spot within your Ear
Serves as the repository
For your secret whispered story.
Don’t fret that you’ll have to wait,
For I won’t hesitate or even
In saying What and All
I’m Required to Say
To ensure that that in the end
YOU Feel YOUR Special Way.
THE WORDS WE MADE
My, but how they roll and rock
Long like legs that never stop
The Way in Which your Words Inflame
My mind and heart for blurred-out days
Sugar Treacles honeyed sweet,
Honeyed Words I long to Feed,
Feed to You and Watch you Eat,
Suck and Feed, Grasp and Eat,
Eat those Words right back to Me.
(Thanks for the photo, @miaroseharvey )
If we’re gonna try this “Virtual Sex,”
I’ll Need MORE and BETTER Text.
Not just at night but throughout the day;
This digital stuff must stimulate.
I’ve got some things I’d like to try,
Test them out, check the Size
Of all Multimedia provides,
Before we fail to learn to thrive,
And the bits of You in Me have died.
The Answers speaks; it self-replies:
This ENDS if you can’t make more time.
Just a little cybernote to say
Some sexy shit would spice my day.
I guess I’ve started a series on CARROTS 🥕