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Before MeWhat's more beautiful?
The over radiant glow of your
skin or your dressed down soul?
The way I pant and sweat in desire,
the way you ignite my body with erotic fire?
Am I lost in your eyes again or are we
going together in sin to that place
I love? Did you know you were more
than eternity, more than enough to
I can't bear such an explosive entity
before me. Yet here you are.
Terror on TopThere is nothing I want more, nothing I desire more strongly than to feel you below me, asking me, begging me, to continue. Your need is stronger than your desire, and I can feel every ounce of that need enveloping me, swallowing my ability to control, to stop my shaking senses. I inhale, searching for your fear, but chocking on my own. Are you ready to be told, to be sold into slavery of my heart? I don't know where my hands go, except feeling them around your neck, fingers slipping into their nooks with force. My hands are home. I don't know whose really in control, but I feel you slipping away, I continue to ride the waves, each thrust causing my anger to rise, I hear you cry out, I want you to scream for me to stop, only to be drown by my fingers, stinging your face. I taste your sweat, I place dirty wagers on whose going to cum first, inside my head of course. I don't want you to know. I just want to hear you say please. Fuck, I am so terrified.
There Was This Girl...... and she was alone, in the quiet of the womb. She waited anxiously for the great happening to pass so she could finally see love. It burned inside her. There was this girl that thought so frequently of love that she convinced herself that that was actually what she had been created from. Love.
There was this girl that made it through the great happening, saw love for the first time. So she thought. As suddenly as it appeared, it had withdrawn from her. There was this girl that wondered why the great happening had to be so painful. Where did love go?!? She felt it withdrawing from her, leaving her trembling, naked, screaming. There was this girl that saw lights and faces and heard sounds and felt cold, wet, felt shivers for the first time. She could smell the heat of the moment, the sweat pouring from her body and from the Ones body as well. But through it all, she could not feel it, she could not find love. There was this girl that had been born into the absence of love.
There was t
IntensityThe darkness caresses me, ebony rainbows silently flowing.
Your touch, like the brush of Butterfly wings on unseen things,
Ignites something darkly inside me and I wait. I attempt to
Call our your name, to ask to be saved, to give into grace.
But the world around me collapses and fades, and all this
From the mere embrace of your finger tips.
I inhale one last time and right before I start to die,
you return to me with your fire and ice, once,
then twice, you revive me. You engulf my body and we
fall away to the sea, just the stars and the trees and all
of eternity escaping from your hands. I attempt to be stable
but sinking sands are over come, my heart and my breath
are on the run, can not be caught, because I am being taught what
it means to find euphoria.
I am reaching hysteria and then when it seems I will find defeat,
our eyes meet and you smile. Your skin brings forth the softness
of moss in the moonlight, the power Of a single candle in the sunl
Hiking BootsI thought of you today, while walking, in moments of sunshine admits
All this grey. I thought of ways I could say what's been keeping
Me up at night. The things I fear, the things I like. The things
I can't keep in sight for very long. Because without a notice or
A farewell song, they are gone from me.
In a moment of solidarity, I took a path divided in three.
I just wanted to wander, I wanted to see. I wanted to be
Missed for one fleeting moment. I wanted you , I wanted
Something. I wanted the stars to die and for you and I
And everything I loved to be gathered into one place.
I imagined all of eternity's beauty in a single space
And he was standing right in front of my eyes. I neither
Took for granted nor seemed surprised. I simply smiled.
I kept walking, but not for very long. Because in this moment, in
the sunshine and the farewell song, I realized with a start, right where I belong.
Can We?Can you sit a while with me? There is something I need to tell you.
I have been trying for 24 years to get through to the other side,
To finally have a release and find peace in solidarity. To realize my purpose
And find clarity. But I think I have been bidding my time until now.
With my eyes adverted towards to ground I stand before you naked and
Vulnerable, waiting for you to turn the table. Waiting for you to realize you
Are unable to see me. But I hold my breath, and then you speak.
You ask me to whisper to you my dreams. You ask me to believe in these things,
to be unafraid for a change. To write my poetry, to turn the page, to know for
certain that there will be another day. You beg me to listen to your heart beat, to
take a seat next to the lilies and lies. To take from misery the golden skies
with ample opportunity. You ask me to see. To no longer count to three
before I jump. To just be faithfully blind and love. To let the peace I have be enough.
To let go of my hu
Returned HopeBreath taking, stolen. You came into my life with
your golden skin, your blue eyed sin that glimpsed
into my very soul. Stole, yes taken, my grief in my
utterly forsaken hopelessness. You made me commit
to something I have been so afraid of, something
that I know I am not made of. Hope.
When I had lost my faith and I could not cope,
you were there with Vodka and a rope, a net,
a catching glove and a smile. Moments passed and
after a while I could breath again. I stopped thinking
of him, I even stopped hating. I think
I have simply been waiting for someone honest,
someone with more than an empty promise.
So as you lie there and we begin our trip,
I smile slightly and bite my lip and remember,
There will not be a dreary December because
you have returned my hope and peace. I wanted a release
and you granted me a sea in which to find myself.
Where as we may never be anything else,
You have my desire for a "friend".
You are him.
TomorrowTomorrow isn't such a long time when we have eternity before us,
I hear you whisper my name and it's like a chorus of angels...
maybe it's demons, but that voice has given me enough reason to hold on,
to stay strong, to finally belong to something bigger than myself.
There is a peace in and of itself when I remember your fingers tracing,
replacing my scars with purity again, removing my sins and allowing me
to heal from within, whereas I never thought it possible.
I never would have thought it believable that I could love without convictions,
without bartering, without fearing and simply tolerating. To love is impermeable,
but to be loved by that for which you would die, is not measurable in this
language or the next. It is a triumph, a passing of a test, a final exam
before our forever can begin. And alas! It has begun. I have
fought for so long to find it, and now I have won. I do not claim to deserve
it, but it is mine to claim and run with. And that is what I will do.
SpeakThe times are as dependent and derived as
they were yesterday. I step down from the ladder
atop my stage and walk to the audience, to
kneel and repent, and set my eyes upon you.
I hand you the microphone and ask you not
to condone what I do here, just swallow your
fear and for once open your everlasting mouth.
Do not doubt what you feel, do not question what's
real, do not ask for a deal or a bargain. Just begin.
I take my seat, resting my aching defeat, and waiting,
desiring nothing more than to hear what you
are saying when you think I am not listening.
The sweat on your palms is glistening but I am still
looking, breathing, waiting, because it is your turn.
You try to learn the lay of the stage, you try to find
a way to make it play in your benefit. But I will sleep
here if I must until you finish it, the song that you have
been writing from the moment we met. The dogs have been
fed, the plants are wet, the anger is dead. It is just
you and me, at a quarter to three. I wi
The Boy Who Wouldnt EatIf you can flutter
I have failed you,
for you were not forged
to be so insubstantial as that
You were writ
to be an epic fable
of endings ignored,
of outlasting your body
through the sheer will
of a writers starving heart
through a broken, bowed
but bravely abiding body
that fights the soul
to comprehend Beauty.
BeautyI'd rather wear flowers in my hair,
forming a delicate chain
Than diamonds around my neck,
covering my tender blue veins
For with every precious petal
and every lucent leaf
I'm a living lesson
teaching beauty can not be bought
But rather it grows and flourishes
with every living thought
Expensive LiesI sit and stare at the toilet bowl.
A guy I know is bulimic.
When we compliment him
I see the twist of agony in his eyes
as his brain reprograms it
to sound like an expensive lie
that costs him another tear
in his tattered dignity.
Friends hurry to him,
to reassure him, to love him.
They tell him how beautiful he is.
We didn't know him before,
but he's definitely not fat now.
We whisper things in concern like;
body dysmorphic disorder.
'I know you'll never believe me
but you are so gorgeous -
not just on the inside.' Not just.
And they're right, I join in,
because they are right to say it
because it happens to be true -
he is stunning. Not just on the outside.
And we want him to see himself
the way we see him, beautiful.
And I join in because
I've felt that strangle of pain
in my stomach, bowels and belly,
when someone used to tell me lies.
So I know how he feels.
Only, he is beautiful on the outside
and I'm not.
He's not seeing reality in the mirror
and I am.
And people rush to correc
Fearing MeI'm not afraid to cry
and I do it
a lot more than you would guess.
It isn't always sadness,
I just feel like I need to,
feel everything so strongly
that it's the only way
to let go for a moment
because if I hold on for too long,
if my grip gets too tight
I'll break myself,
I will break you like glass
and we will both
I am a good guy
who hasn't yet found a way
to show it,
I am a good guy
who still identifies with the villains,
hides everything important
anything to throw you
off of my trail....
and I don't know why,
but I am trying.
Maybe I think
that if you could see me,
the real me,
you wouldn't want to look anymore,
want to be anywhere near me,
and the idea
that I can't add up
to be enough for you,
to be enough for me,
is so fucking heart breaking
I can hardly fathom it.
I can't say that it doesn't hurt
because it does,
it hurts a whole hell of a lot,
I've come to depend on pain,
to befriend misery
you're just a question marki met you so long ago
but back then our bodies were made of metal
and nowadays they’re made of the blades of
grass and dirt settling
underneath my fingernails.
my fingers are having a hard time
reaching the keys and
my organs are shaking mostly because i haven’t
eaten in two days but also
because i’m worried about the things you're doing to yourself.
we didn’t meet very long ago at all but it feels like forever ago
and you say you don’t know me
that you don’t know anyone
but baby you're turning into a skeleton and i’m peeling back my skin
to try and reach my bones, just like you.
i hope you're happy,
i’m covering the hard wood floors now
the bits and pieces splattered.
they are calling it a suicide but i’m calling it
a way to see my brain and
just how dark it has become, and honestly
i don’t want you to try and see about your’s.
i’m mourning the loss of my heart and wish you weren’t either -
Black hole BulimicThe Composition:
I birth poems — not amaranths
in graveyards — not gardens.
sows seeds of doubt
into skeleton weeds.
A farmer plucks the bones
from Apollo's hyacinth; his
I binge on broken
cracked collectors of rocks,
of pebbles kidnapped
from barren beaches:
where crooked kings
buried in books whose
pages creak to crickets
in an abandoned abyss
of an attic—caskets on
an antiquated shelf. I
choke on the dust and
twitch in recoil.
The bickering sky
A cloud coughs—
The clock's scythe hand
swivels to the beckoning
twelve. Spastic ticking—
each bleak stroke
of a midnight heart.
The sundials do not work
now. The vampires know
I kill poems—
obligation steam machineas always
grinding the cankerous
of your cognition
until the lack of compassion
leaves you unlubricated
seized frozen bound stuck
only then the machine of
your fears will burst to steam
squealing to suckle
at the genius of my
the unsung soiled hero
of middle-class ferocity
savior of the undeserving
winding slowly deftly dying
martyr to the self-justified cause
Sound PoemIthrumden, ithrumden delsum
nith mul thruss elmrissull.
Eth rut mundelliss
Curmiette dessel renrin
irme trell ithrumden.
as love for summer fades.late morning-
there's the tease of
snow in the clouds,
in the air, and the trees
have finally lost their
the sunlight is damp.
alters the room
as it graces my skin,
and for once
i don't wake up right away.
instead i lay
between my memory bitten
sheets, and i think
about all the times he said
that he hated winter.
i don't remember
when i began to love it,
and i don't care.
nothing can shatter that.
hurt the mostI am trying to decide what hurts the most,
surpressing myself or dancing with the ghost
of my former happiness. Too many nights spent
wondering where this road is leading,
finding myself doing nothing but speeding down
the curves of my youth. The rear view mirror is clouded
with mistakes and regret, then I look forward and
see you step into the road, blocking my passion
and hindering my soul from its true path.
Still I'm wondering what hurts the most,
lying to my heart or following this road
with a numb sense of hope. I have tried to let
go of our many differences, demanding myself to
pretend that I can change you, but alas! I accept
that I can not. I have forgot to be true to myself
and let the belt of conformity fall to the ground.
I have forgotten how to be easy and real, how
to fully feel how I feel, how to discern scarps
from the rest of the meal of life.
I can not indulge this make believe game
that you and I are truly the same, when it has
been proven time and again that I am wh
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More