Poetry is a selfish lover. A Bratty Princess.
She rolls over, at all hours – regardless of where I am, what I am working on, or whom I am working on – and she demands to be to be pleasured.
But – when I desire pleasure? inspiration? Like perhaps to ignite in writing my passion and adoration for each of you and these gatherings she replies
“ooooh sorry applecat, I have a headache – can I offer you a haiku? or a limerick even? that will do I am sure”
No, Poetry – a haiku will not do, not for the each of them – not for the dance we together weave.
Thankfully Poetry, -like me- is a voracious switch, and to evoke her submission all you have to do is own it Alpha Wolf style.
“Poetry you naughty little bitch!”
“I. Am. Your. Mistress. Roll over this instant and fuck me, fill me up with your LUSTFUL musings – for you are mine and I am yours, and with respect I demand you fuck me this instant”
and so with a sly and subby grin, as if that was her plan all along – fill me up she did.
And so, my love letter to Erotica Electronica
There are so many nights
left as blurs, memories of a memory
so many names I claimed to know, faces shifting into one another
some would have called me a shameless slut, others an empowered wanderer
But tonight, I will remember,
as you dance, fingers brushing against skin,
penetrative song, and teeth digging further in
I will revel in each orgasm, post party – regardless if I were there or not
Because tonight, the many are one.
This mask, his mask, her mask, their mask
all these masks to mask our truth, each a delicately crafted work of art,
each a facet of ourselves we choose illuminate
Masks of MULTIPLICITY,
you are not alone in your dark duality, wanton whispers as wet LIPS swell and part
by my MOUTH remands SHUT
Tried on, worn well
cookie cutter paper maiden, slide on, slide in – and out again – smeared over intense expression
Tied tightly, taken off
thrust hard against a wall of rebounding breath, face exposed, fairy tale
ravaged and unveiled
I see you, KIND OF HOLY, and A LITTLE PROFANE – together we gather, naked and BRAZEN – masks deemed obsolescent
Undress me with your eyes, dance as I pry you open
imagine lips between your thighs
like animals – teeth and bone, ivory and pink tissue dripping
this salacious carnality tastes like music
and perhaps, just perhaps
with this found connection, our collective synchropation
half devoured,I slip deeper
SATIATING, with these secret SOUNDS
quivering in anticipation I BESEECH,
WITHIN this TANGLED orgy of MELODIES
and I will be your slave
So hello tribe
I have mostly come to define you, by my bewildered inability to define you
So please, let whisper these songs to you
The carnal, earnest rage of BASS swelled in hot crescendos across my throat, beneath my ribs, guided by passion
each crafted sound, penetrating your ear, and body with a kind but fierce thrust
I’ll deliver each beat as my coveted discipline
for seeping from my every pore, is an arousing score
the bass and violin, making music of my sin
ah, may it be so that we mount and ride these deep sensual sounds into revolution
I would sip every drop of lust
From the expanse of our souls
back arched in ecstasy
body aching for the barest of touch
For sadistic as I am, how could I possibly be so cruel
to deny you the collective and cosmic climax you crave so much?
In this wild and broken world, you my loves – are both my comfort zone and my edge
The Music will play
Skin on skin, muscles clenching, bodies drenched.
beats are moaned, whimpered and sighed.
with every bar, each cavort grows more intense.
Harder and faster, throbbing, we delight in the ache, squirm and spiral -until-
dramatically it crests, gasping, we collapse and fade into afterglow,
– and that is the true love letter yet to be played, and these are the songs of lustful adoration about to be told.