Touch, feel, clutch my skin as it’s sagging away
What if I am born stringing in the river beds of time, there is always time for an entry upon an exit
What if I am born stringing in the river beds of time, there is always time for an entry upon an exit
Love Stories
I was always told, Is that How you start telling me, How am I to you?
Like a Cuckoo bird to your Pelican sounds,
Like I hound you to pound you, to feel you, to sink with you in the waters, devilish and divine at the same time, like whisking and flowing fine.
From oceans,
From sorrows,
From feelings,
From mysteries,
Yet I remain as a static concocted entity with your love imprinted on me.
Even if our skins dry, perplexed with creches forming, like a rolled-up cloth
Windows daunting in the dusk, like the darkness being a sorrowful state, of late to judge late but yet I appeared.
I wanted to be with you, with spotted skin, dry sunshine, lack of water, and moisture but enchantingly purer
The eagles feel our warmth, and they turn back to see us, as we are time-defined,
Old but gold, lost but host to their beaming desire to see us dying..
To fight the Vulture that will feed on us.
Race us, Consume us, Usurp us, to gulp and gulp and throw out the bones.
Like I help you grab me and bite my skin gently to rumble my passions to an ecstatic warmth dreamy state,
Where everything shivers,
Like a lost momentary bliss…
But still adorned with a whisking operation of combinations in its hollow shapes.
As the Cocoon left the butterfly out to grow old, it had to go back to the cocoon of the mud where nature consumes it, as the mud raises itself and gulps it like a reckless Venus Fly Trap.
Unending Love Making
I discovered this while being together with you, for you, and by you.
I go back to my cocoon and feed myself on fog.
With the grey haze and clouds forming and shaping, I felt the oozing blood flowing.
From the near ends at the roughness and dryness in my pores, lash floods into your inner sanctum.
Yet, I would gaze and trust you, feel you embed and intersperse in you.
Like a natural mystic, trying hard to breathe cosmic air while reversing and proceeding to connect to supernatural forms.
You thicken your sweat, with body wet, of promiscuity laced with red. I like to be in dreams of your dreams, where you dream about me dreaming about you and the person in that dream, dreaming about this lifelong coiled estate we are in, churning, enveloping, evolving and rising.
Like we are a pair of bonded twins,
Coaxed and smelted together by iron.
We are combined and tied together,
Even if it means our skins sag,
Memories hag, whisper gag, and call out raunch nights swag, in dreams of mine you come with a love sack.
With bold thundering attempts to quench my thirst,
You thrust upon me like a Penguin swimming against the tide to save itself,
It is thrashing the ice covers while viewing the Sharks and Ocra.
Waiting to die but with sweet pleasure
In the Mistress age and Master player’s kinship rage,
The teens revolt, as they face a heat unfathomably and uncontrollably
Forcing them to burn and burn, turn, and churn the insides.
A fire to be gross, ideally amassing comfort with lips of the nether regions.
As death sways and sidelines, I am petrified by it.
As the systemic junction halts, berates, and derails different stations, I watch and yet ponder in space.
Am I infinite, surely was when I was under you,
Gasping for air, in the 90s, yet having the strength to go on..
For love is not an attribute driven to care for saggy skin, forever sheen, to not have glitches in the matrix,
Yet your passions expand, broaden, flatten, and driven to fall into the hollow back hole,
As it is said black holes change time, space, scene, and even existence.
I would prefer to fall with you there, even if it means risking it,
To shed body, soul, and identity, to lose myself with you losing yours.
Thanks a lot for taking some precious time out of your schedule to read my work. If you like it, you can read some of the other poems I have linked below. I hope you have a great day! Thanks for stopping by!!!