The Candle Flickers

A throttle to slow down and reverse, backing out of dead ends and alleyways, one way streets and cul-de-sacs. Typo? Negative. This sentence had the subject it needed, which is this sentence. Another sentence, the longest one yet, was soon to come to an end.

Sometimes love takes a while. A lifetime, or five minutes. Sometimes both. We had a false start, where our broken pieces stuck each other. We had to adjust and twist and fix ourselves a little bit, studying us to see how they could fit.

You study my depths so you can dive in them, exploring my darkest secrets. You touch my insides fearlessly, as your skin touches mine. Your eyes light up and I feel your power on my skin. The autumn leaves blow around us, cloaking us in shameless carnality. We are soaking wet, having splashed through that fucking water on our way to forever.

I tiptoe across your skin, leaving nothing but blue electric prints on your thighs and brilliant red marks crackling on your backside. I glide across your curves, taking the tight turns recklessly and risking crashing into you with abandon. Your lips are an open invitation to pleasure, which I willingly accept. My gift to you is sensuously thoughtful, the kind that keeps on giving. I keep on giving it to you, and you accept it eagerly and quickly. You bare your throat to me, asking me to leave a mark. You’ve left an impression on my everything.

We are the scholars teaching each other about life and love, and we always finish our lessons with high marks. Your course for me is hard, but I’m up to the task. I make you stay after, keeping you for private lessons. We realize the lessons we’ve already learned, and eagerly await new experiences. We profess our undying love, and learn each other’s bodies instead.


Gardens And Your Body, Juxtaposed

The moon was new like our love
It was a drone summer
Gardens properly trimmed and sculpted
Growing next to a radiant pool
From which we both emerged
You lay down beside me
I touched the bottoms of your feet
Gliding up your Achilles’
Worshipping your golden calves
Orchids and Asiatic lilies grew quietly
I traced an imaginary stocking hemline
Up the backs of your thighs
A tiny breath escaped your lips
The topiary mimicked the rounded curves of your posterior
Birds sang about them both
I brought my lips to the small of your back
(They were jealous of my hands, you see)
You purred, and all avian life paused for a moment
How restless your skin
As wind moved leaves, and your hair
How the sun glinted off the water
And your golden skin
The light must have gotten in my eyes
I closed them, and my lips found their way
To your glorious throat
My hands took different paths
Examining crevices and corners
You moved your hair
I obliged willingly, kissing you just there, and there, and there
No sound but the waves
No one watches our careful exploration
No witnesses to our crimes of passion


Destiny And Honey

You straddle my feelings, not sure if you want to tip me to anger or sorrow, but passion and brambles are in my eyes. What are feelings, anyway, but the too-hot emotions that boil over and spill out onto your thighs? My sleepy eyes stay closed against your brilliance and honey. Coffee smells so good, but not as good as your jasmine and ocean breezes.

The battle between good and sleep continues in my mind, but you somehow champion delicious reasons to awaken. You always do. I open the vaults that contain my longing gaze, and show you my forever.


Domination, Plus Tip

She seemed evasive, but he was always sure to ask her open-ended questions. He didn’t want her escaping with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. He wanted details.

She seemed anxious, but he kept up the pressure and she finally submitted. She learned that she enjoyed submitting to him, a fact that made her feel almost naughty.

“Okay. Yes, I would like my steak medium rare, with a side of the lobster tail, please, and braised asparagus with pine nuts and pesto. Thank you.”

He knew he had her then.


A Very Good Post. I Enjoyed Reading It. Thanks For Sharing!

Alpha enigma omega mcguffin
Sensate ornate piledriver jackhammer
Chim-chiminey gimme gimme
Shiv shiv in the back
An irresistible fascination with black clouds
An irascible laceration spilling facts out
An irrational abjuration kills then backs out
An irredeemable condemnation fills with max doubt
Coughing choking noxious vapors
Offing joking toxic capers
Doffing smoking walking papers
Scoffing movers, boxing shakers
Difficult not to feel this
Grab a corner and peel this
Take the wrong deck and deal this
No one’s looking so steal this
No one sees you conceal this
Someone throws a surreal disc
Someone flows through the real this
Someone knows to reveal this
Dust devils under crushed metal
The kettle whistles, the dust settles
Malicious vicious dishes taste delicious
A thousand wishes ambitious auspicious
Reflex reflects rejected respect
Inspect neglected wrecked object
This part is not like the rest
It’s meter and pattern are broken
Obfuscating any sequence discernment
Succeeding in becoming unpredictable
What’s coming next? Another rhyme?
We haven’t got the patience or hours for that
Hours and hours pass while we’re pretending to sleep
Or actually sleeping
Or keeping our minds busy while we try to sleep
Or attempting to astrally project into another locality
Does anyone know what really happens all the time?
Or is it all just an educated guess
Happenstance circumstance instance
The dance we all imagine we’re performing
I don’t see myself how you see me
I see myself how I think you see me
Three things mean the same in any language
Fuck you


Shadows And What’s Behind Them

Black ice flowed across his heart in that slow glacial way. He saw her emerge from the cocoon of automotive joy she had arrived in. Holding one hand out, he offered his assistance. She graciously accepted. She was wearing gloves, a 1950s affectation that had suited her well ever since her grandmother the movie star had advised her to take it up when she was a girl.

She was still a girl, but one with wisdom and talent behind her. All eyes upon her, she proceeded into the restaurant, followed by paparazzi and goons to bash them senseless. He eyed her hungrily, though the menu lay open before him. His eyes were oblivion, but her eyes were oblivious as she stared him into a hazel resolve.

He actually blinked. Just once.

She boldly ordered the eight hundred dollar scotch. It was brought to her by two impeccably dressed servers, trained in decorum and presentation. Which was utterly ruined by her telling them to get on with it. No savoring, no sniffing, no checking, just open it and pour over ice. Two glasses. He could choose which. The. End.

Three shots later, and she was ready to speak.

“I get the vial. You can have anything else you like.”

He looked at her from across the table, and it may have been across the room for all the attention she paid him. She had a way of making him feel human again. How did she do that?

“What if I want you?”

She looked at him, one eyebrow raised, and smirked. “I’m autopossessed, and desecrated. So sure. Why not?”

He pulled out a Damnation and lit it up. A solid glass of water to the face took care of that bad habit. He prepared for the burn, but it was regular water.

“Bitch! How dare you!”

She grinned. “Shut up and have a drink! I’m way ahead of you.”

He paused mid-rant, and grabbed his scotch on the rocks. He drank it slowly, looking at her lustfully. She flashed him one of her breasts, and showed him one of her fingers.

“The vial.” It was a statement.

He fished the vial out of his jacket pocket and gave it to her. The room got very quiet, and very dark, and a wall appeared, securing their privacy for what was to come. He leaned in, grabbed her hair and kissed her, then motioned to his pants. She just looked up at him, batted her eyelashes and started undoing his trousers, removing the belt slowly.

Suddenly, foam and vomit started spewing from his mouth. He shook violently, and quivered erratically until he finally collapsed, partially dissolved.

She removed her gloves carefully, tossing them into the scotch glass where they burst into flame. She opened the vial, whispered a chant and slogged it down.

It was the belt she wanted. Made from the skin of Azrael. Granted strength and speed, but only if one knew how to work it. He hadn’t.

He also should have learned how to drink his liquor, she thought. No nursing. He just found out the hard way that holy water makes some hellacious ice cubes.


Date With A Nice Girl

He flipped through the channels, looking for something to watch. He was fond of home improvement shows, but this time he wanted something different. They were sitting together at home tonight, so he wanted something ‘they’ liked rather than something ‘he’ liked. He wanted everything to go well.

She came in the room, looking great as usual. Her hair was long and dark, her skin creamy white. Her eyes were captivating. She smiled at him and sat down beside him.

“I was thinking American Idol tonight. What do you think?”

“That’s fine, or Antiques Roadshow. I wonder sometimes if I’ll see anything I recognize.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” She smiled and gave him a quick peck. He hugged her tightly, and they watched. Someone sang badly, and someone sang well, and then there was a break. It was the usual show. He could see why Idol was tanking lately.

He felt a sharp pain in his neck.

“Ouch! What was that?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s my necklace. I’ll take it off. It has this setting and… sorry, really.”

“That’s okay. Come here, you!” He gave her a large kiss, but something wasn’t right with it. It was like one of those 1940s romantic comedy movie kisses – 30 seconds with no passion or tongue. He thought it could just be first date nervousness.

They went back to the horrible musical competition show already in progress. It was amazing sometimes how what ‘he’ liked was what he liked, but what ‘she’ liked and what ‘they’ liked were often identical – even on a first date. At least he was comfortable, leaning back against her, her arms around his chest, her hot breath on his neck, her-“

“Ouch! That hurts! Did you take off the neckla- OH MY GOD, what the hell? Are you kidding me? You’re a fucking vampire? Fuck.”

“I’m sorry! I thought we… It’s not what you think! You’re just so… You’re the Unbreakable One. You are the pinnacle of all men everywhere!”

“I can’t believe this. You’re such a bitch. Get out. Just get out.”

“Michael, I… Please? Can we just watch this sh-“

“GET OUT!!!”

She stood up and looked at him pleadingly, but he just looked away, shaking his head. He simply pointed at the door, never once returning her gaze. She walked out, a single red tear running down her cheek, and shut the door behind her.

Michael turned the channel to Design Closet Challenge. Fuck her, this was his house. He was so tired of all the werewolves and vampires and liches and witches and bitches! All trying to get in his soul’s pants, just because he was the Unbreakable One. Why couldn’t he just meet a nice girl and settle down? Were there any nice girls left? Even one? Maybe that Elvira who worked down at the coffee shop. She looked really cute.


In Case You Feel Like Being Melancholy

You meet, you love, you laugh
You fall out, you break up, you grieve
Time passes…

You meet someone from that time
You see something on the web
Time backs up…

Is it reminiscing
If you think of times you hate?
When the only good memory you have
Is when it ends?

You meet someone else, you love, you laugh
You vow not to repeat your mistakes
Time loops…

You lose friends because you grow
To prefer quality to quantity
You vow not to vow
But to live well
Time heals…
Wounds heal…
There is love…


Concerning Steve

The long tail of the sun set beneath the rocking chair of the clouds, before crawling under the blanket of the night. The sun was a cat, is what I’m saying. A cat in my living room. I’m God.

Steve God.

Not a lot of people really know my first name. Practically none. I have a few relatives, but I haven’t talked to them in a while. I think they may be up to something, though, because I keep hearing these voices on the wind, asking for various favors. It’s kind of annoying. I can’t give some guy a new car! I can barely afford the one I’ve got.

It’s refreshing, though equally annoying, when the favors are altruistic or affect a large number of people. I want to help starving people or people with cancer too, but I can’t. I’m not a doctor or a nutritionist or a billionaire. And forget helping sportsball teams win! I don’t care about it that much. I’m focused on trying to pay rent and run my little business over here in my corner of the world.

Some people might point out that there are no corners in a sphere, but there are. They’re metaphorical, bitches. Just like my powers to do fuck-all to help vast numbers of people, or people, or even a single individual, something that has been pointed out to me by the last 5 girlfriends I’ve had. I live modestly, sure. I don’t have the latest electronics or a huge mansion, but would it kill one of you ladies to look past that and see my good quantities? I’m not getting any younger here, and I’d like to have a Mrs. God before I turn 40. Even if she keeps her actual last name. And I wouldn’t blame her if she did.

Like my last girlfriend, Jennifer Betterthanyou. I would have to think (and drink!) long and hard before I could decide between being Ms. God and Ms. Betterthanyou. They both have their charms. Which reminds me, 2 or 3 girlfriends ago, one Mammaria Charms. That didn’t last long, because I got tired of saying “Yes! I fucking KNOW you’re up there, but you’re also down here!” Incidentally, ballsy name choice by Mr. and Mrs. Charms. That name could have easily fallen flat, so to speak.

There’s always The One That Got Away, and no, I’m not talking about kidnapping. In my case, it was the amazing Susie Universe. She was everything to me. It’s hard to talk about, but it was like she was the center of my… something. Like no matter where I looked, she was there. All around me, part of everything. Very hard to ignore. I’m not sure why we drifted apart, but it seemed like some unseen force was driving us in different directions, despite her being everywhere I was.

There’s an opposite to that, the What Was I Thinking? For me, it was Lisa Shit-Telescope. I really don’t know what I saw in her, but looking backwards, it wasn’t very good.

I have hope that someday I’ll meet Ms. Right, who will be Ms. God. Maybe Susie will come back? I don’t know. I just wish there was someone to ask for help. Someone who knew some people. Oh well – life goes on.


The Dance

One moves first
The other responds
It doesn’t matter

One says a word
The other a thought
It never crosses their minds

It was never confused
Never two halves of a whole
Never two lies

It hasn’t been a pause
Come together
And separate

Each is confident
In his own right
In her own way
The words flow across the page
He was sure
She was sure
They were uncertain
Of the other’s feel
Of exposing heart
Openly guarded
Secretly exposed

They move closer
Across the miles
Making changes to soul

Traveling so far
Across the sky
Delivering gifts of words

Shedding the strangeness
Shaping something
Totally undefined

Did he go too far
Did she go too far
Cautiously they begin

Each is troubled
By his own past
By her own demons
The passion flows across the page
He was dark
She was light
They became comfortable
With the empathy
With the steps and the song
With the movement and rhythm
Surprisingly full of grace

Now he finished her thoughts
Now she knew his mind
Now they started the dance

Moving this way and that
Steps so perfectly placed
While the music played on

Subtle changes in time
Shifts in their subtle steps
To no one’s surprise

Now a spin towards love
Now a step from their fears
Dancing closer with time

Each is tentatively happy
He can’t let himself go
She can’t let herself go
What will happen when the music stops
Will there be melancholy
Will there be sadness and pain
They had come to a point
He expected it
The shoulder tap
The cutting in
The spinning away