30.6.11

Sometimes I like to swallow (Poetica gone south)

You hang down the corner of my lips waiting for acceptance.
Each taste proceeds to invest, digest.
Each time my mouth opens its portal you digress.

How sweet for the soul to steam
From who you are and what you are made of.
Stain my body, cross identities, we become drained.

On my knees I remember all my prayers, ones that lead me to the offering.
Everyone’s the watcher,
And I wonder if God knows…
Left my act by the door, for your mouth is a pureness to
Leave its print.
And I adore.

The body beats drums.
Wooden, hard.
A dance of betrayal to my father, a dance of temptation for survival.
Pleasure and pain provokes.

Chrysanthemums spread down my legs.
Curious eyes, your masculine growth.
I exhale the waves of crimson and burgundy as floral babies escape the tunnel.
Milk spuds burst with agony.
Throb - raw penetration is all I seek from you.