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Image for the poem soldiers of sexual nights

soldiers of sexual nights


sheís painted like dirty pictures in my head when I close my eyes.
Iíd crawl thru a barbed-wire mine field to get to her obscene
caress, while tracers make red fractures in the fckless sky. itís
like boot camp all over again.

I kiss her lips & pull back; she eyes me with smoke & shrapnel.
she opens her mouth a little, & I go in deep, where the French
offer no resistance.

the tainted hickeys I plant on her neck & tits are merits of battle.
when I spank her, she knows Iím serious, & she aches for the sting.

I hold her down by the hair as my fingers slip over her belly, real
quiet & covert; they invade her slick beachhead & I masturbate
her. when she moans my name, she stretches it out just like that,
like the chorus of a song. but sheís not in love, so donít forget it.

flares in the air tell me itís time to mount an assault, & I storm
her valiant citadel. itís the desire that bonds us, itís the passion
that crushes us.

she delivers the agony of reckless abandon & lost kisses, along
with the blues in the night, bluer than the riffs of a steel guitar. but
when the dream ends, itís the concentration camp of my loneliness.

I could tattoo my initials on her sweet ass †Ė
I could write a fckn poemÖ


(Art: Francesca Galliani)




Written by JohnFeddeler
Published
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