deepundergroundpoetry.com

oyster pink dragon

It's good that the force
which drives my hard cock
occasionally abates and allows
my virulent and bootless passion
to ameliorate and lessen for a time
It's good that I sometimes feel soft
and free and have no throbbing burden
of an erection to contend with and appease
by putting my hand down my pants
and having to masturbate myself like crazy
every time I awake
It's good that the images
of your nipples and curves
and the living pulses
of the oyster pink dragon between your legs
sometimes remain invisible
to the X-ray vision
of my lurid and thorny imagination
It's good that the translucent demeanor
of your wetness and your heat
the perfume of your sexuality
The convolutions and ripples
of your infinite and erotically attractive mind
and the magnetic pull of your body
loses the power to allure me
into wishing unto our fates
the infernal madness of kissing,
the partial engagement of licking
and the total theatre of unbridled cavorting,
wrestling, fingering and tongueing
and penetrating and biting and rolling
and mauling and knowing and groaning
without the mercy of withholding.
It's good that some dawns I awake
Without such thoughts upon me
And that I find you didn't provoke me that night
With naked images
Or ambiguous messages
which my hot cock and furious loins
Like to play with and ponder
As if there were ever the slightest hope
That they would one day be called upon
To burst into action
In a sporadic and vociferous intercourse
Characterized by sweat and rips
As clothing was torn off and chucked
And the grown ups got ...
lucky enough
To have their aches and torments
Completely set to dormant
It's good that you don't instigate
These waves
Of want with salacious invitations
That you don't automatically catalyse in me
These latent roars of desire
Causing my tame cat state to erupt
Like a bull in a documentary
Bumping into trees
And bellowing in the mist
I don't know what it meant to me
To ease the throbs I'm fighting
With this little piece of writing
But I guess that it's all I can handle
Putting my fingers in the candle
Of temptation and instinct
and the call and thrall
Of the flesh
It's good that those thoughts remain distant
As the chance of our bodies copulating
Remains practically non existent
But I cant help my amorous imaginary peeking
Especially when I'm somewhere
between waking and sleeping.