"...to satisfy your soul"
my sweet submissive girl!
if only feeble messages in your email...
could win your heart.if only the man that falls at your feet...could then rise,
and be the man that would...already know
how to
touch you...when to slap you...when to kiss you...
when to bind you...when to free you...when to catch you...
when to look the other way...when to laugh at your tears...
and more importantly when to kiss them away.
Precious and few are the moments we share...
do not waste them on pretendersor those that woulduse you to learn...
and don't be too flattered by the attentions of the world around you...
but look to satisfy your soul.
Your submission is always a gift...to be treasured.
Always welcome...but seldom treasured
by those caught in the alluring glowof a woman so alive
and yet so
captive to desire
Who can know the riddle of your soul?...the perfect touch
to bring you to life
the honest word of courage
that frees you to fall at his feet?...the darkness enfolds and never lets go
holds you knows all your secret spots...and all you do is breathe and submit
with glee and gratitude
in love forever...
"If Only..."
confounded by events...the sirens pass, excitement rises and falls.
I wish you were parked outside,
headlights on...full tank of gas.
I wish you were standing at my door...asking to come in.
I won't take just a piece...when I want it all.
and the prayer always starts with...
"God, if only..."and even God doesn't know right now...if it should be different.
if only I could listen to your voice spill
its accents and nuances
in person.
no bullshit,
no master somewhere in cyber town,
no questions of truth, no damn computers, no soon to be 'ex-in-limbo',
no more wondering, no phones,
nobody in my way with his arm around you,
nothing
and just time...tons of hours, minutes, seconds...moments fat with glee and knowing smiles
as the clock burns away the precious moments of our lives...
we spend them in post orgasmic bliss,
pre orgasmic bliss,
and just plain orgasmic bliss.
laughing at the world...
closing the blinds...and, ordering pizza...and yelling to the night with passion and giggles...
like high school kids that can never grow up...
never have responsibilities...
never have to pay off that credit card at 22%apr...
never have to pay off that emotional debt at 110%apr...
never have to take back the leased car... that runs so well...
let them shut off the phone, I have what I need...I think
if only...you were here.(01/20/02)
"a tiger every time"
I feel her sharp claws
dig in as she leaves...jumping from my lap to the floor.
hey you! I say...but she is a tiger every time, a cat
and she is here only when she needs me.
and she gets me every time,
so I lift my hand to stoke her...just shake my head and welcome her.
it would be like resisting water in a desert,
like saying "no" to cake on your birthday.
this butt's for you she purrrrrssss and, well...she always feels good under my hand.
she rubs her face against me,
and just after she feels her Master's hand hit
just the right spot...she jumps,this feline friend,
to the floor so quicklyand slinks
around the corner...rubs against
the couch and purrrrrsss,
"she loves it!"
(what,the couch? the touching? me? what?)
what can she be thinking as she roams the neighborhood at night?
the other 'cats' approve,
but so what?
she always WAS
so fine on the street...and what can she be thinking
as she stares so blankly out the window?
will he come again or is she too late?
what can she be thinkingwhen she sleeps
so lovingly in my empty arm-chair,
when I'm not there...and will not ever come when called?
she walks slowly...to the chair
I always sit in...and 'loves' the leg claws dig again...but I'm not there...
and she curls up tightly,
small smaller smallest...till just the hint of her remains.
(12/03/01)
Wishing for the Perfect Words
each time I sit here...waiting for inspiration...
waiting for the wind to inflate my sorry words
and somehow imbue them with perfection...like the perfect smell of spring flowers
like the laugh of a baby
like the color of your eyes
like the touch of your hand
like the sound of your hello on my hearteach thought slips by here...
dripping on a lonely brain cell...while you are lost on an island
I can only see with a little telescope
perched under my swollen rotten eye
which misperceives and poisons my brain
mushing up the perfect words.
each unreal day carves out a bigger piece...
scraped from the inside hollowed like a pumpkin...thinner now and less useful
my words stand like toothpicks holding up elephants
waiting for the time when it will be just "us"
each moment drains out my life
you far away...
or close and distantthere is no difference finally
writers write...lovers love...loneliness aches the same in each of us...
as you dream of perfect words
to turn his head...as I wish I could turn yours.
12/26/01
