Mousing

Wonderful! it can't get better than this. Every line is loaded with spite and desire in equal measure. The last line is a killer. wow! Love the way you write.

Thank ya. Appreciate the read, mmsiraj.

so good to see you back at it [:
this one's thick with a near disdain, and the understanding in the way thoughts just go that direction when you're not asking for them. you're excellent with the show-not-tell, as you always have been. to the point and not as much as a frill. *like* [:

Och, I'm glad you swung through here, Jestalessa. Always good to see a friendly face in these parts. Thanks for the smile. :)

loved the contrast and yet similar ...vacuous love making...emptiness

It is pretty spacious in here, yep. Thanks for reading and for commenting.

There's a lot I enjoyed here. Firstly I loved the contrast between the "porcine" neighbours fucking next door, and your "frigid" hands - jarring and evocative.

I really like the line "her Polish is music" but personally I would have preferred her language to remain nameless - mysterious even. Hope you don't mind me saying so.

I also love the poem's ending on "cuntwards". I don't think I've seen that word elsewhere! I used it once in an old poem, but here it works perfectly.

Thanks for the read.

No. Thank you, Cthonian. And of course I don't mind. Not even a little. Glad you liked the poem, and I appreciate your honesty, as always. Thanks again, Cthonian.

Thank you, Gabriel.

I am amused by this. It sounds like you had fun writing it, although it sounds like it was written in irritation. Nice job.

And the rest..

 Thank you.

quite the romance novel, with a musical score to boot - keep the pages coming

Well, thank ya, Semaj.

Sometimes I just have to come here and reread this.

Some company for a lonely poem. Thank you, RT.

love the brooding melancholy....sounds of solitude..

Solitude is the ultimate pleasure.

Nice poem.

The hotness of neighbors doing the deed.  Keep on writing.

yes... my eyes would fall towards that direction as well.... how can they be so inconsiderate and not invite you ... sorry me...

make the best of each situation

Go ahead and play with that thang

Well, that wasn't the point of this poem

You can always invite yourself over

Nah, there was definitely no room for my angry presence