• do you know that I cum to you?that I bring myself to ecstasy at the thought of you conquering me?that I ride the surge of pleasure like a boat reaching shore imagining your mouth on my parted lips?legs spread, feet pressing into the bed like ocean waves reaching aggressively for the sandmy back and…

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• we are not like them • there are some dayswhen I will kiss your throatbut so many morespent wishing you’d tear into minebecause the worldgets too quietand standing stillbecomes too muchso this animal that lives insidewill start a riotto taste bloodto stop pretendingto be gentleor to like it as suchor that these mundane circlesof…

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Don’t fall in love with people like me. We have forgotten how to stay. We are rivers and dandelion seeds. We are hurricane winds and fickle seas. Ghosts of love, never really here, one foot always out the door and the other set to flee.. The lover in me will want to keep you but…

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• I am madeto burn the handsof the lesser manand light flamesin thoseproven worthy the blood& the bones •• I have never been for the meek or the weak. It is my intention and purpose to light a blaze in you that burns so fierce and bright you will, at first, not know how to…

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I can’t help it… Is it an addiction? The way I seek it out.. The feeling of making them feel good for the first time in a long time.. Or ever even. I know that I get high on it. Being the one that shows them what it’s like to throb again. To long for…

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I know you don’t get it… Most won’t. I can see that you are not the type of man to stick his hand in the fire just to see how hot it burns, to know how much heat he can bear understanding he becomes stronger for this test of his will. And you are not…

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love the wild in mebefore there is no stillness left and I can no longer be caught slowly becomingmore of thisand less of thatand I am so unsureif a love existsthat cravesthe riverin spite of the current the palominothat wants to roamthe wildfloweramongst the weedsand the mountaindespite the stone the blood& the bones

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In the morning he wakes me.. The familiar feeling and heat of his touch my own personal alarm clock. His hands rough from years of working. I love the contrast of their grooves against my softness and the way that I always know it’s him when they are on me. I did not feel him…

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won’t you let me be your medicine?

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i loved the wayhe left his love with melittle remindersdug into my skinthat would soonsit atop a backdropof purple and golda way to staythroughout the dayuntil he could create arton my body again the blood& the bones

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