jungle amarelle

 
told her how caged it was to be naked & sexually ravaged
in these sordid encounters, like a wild thing somewhere
between animal & human.

are we merely diploma’d savages, vainly pursuing poetry & art?
in our charade of being civilized, of being beyond corruption, of
being in love, are we not lost?

once was a woman, feathered in blue romance, who said she’d
keep my secret passions hidden, as if I had not the simple tools
of pen & parchment. but it comes to me to write, so I write it.

she was lightning in the black canvas of sky, a flash & it was over.
but the storms do not abate; another woman comes & brings the
rain. she makes fire to cook the meat of a fresh kill & feed her young.
in the mountain’s river she bathes, & combs lime juice through the
curls in her long hair, that shimmers like antique bronze.

on the lonely nights, she waits for a man. when the primitive agony of
lust rages in me & I need to hunt the body of a carnal feline, I take her
& return to my chamber. she knows my intent by the flaming flecks in
my eyes, as she awaits the suffering of my wrath.

on thick carpets of straw, she rubs her nude flesh against me, melting
the frost of my arms & lips with her wet heat. my desire is vengeful as
my tongue penetrates her mouth deeply; she responds just the same, &
moans that she requires me in all of her holes. sublime journey of
ecstasy in our kindred, enkindled sucking. as I fill my hunger on the
burning tarts of her skin, her endearments are odes to decadence.

she embraces me as I lock into her silken hermitage for enthrallment &
the amrita of lubrication, then reverse my assault. face down on our
hedonist bed, she rushes with me to the faraway meridian of orgasmal
inferno, then drops, an utterly submitted woman, into her veil of tears.

after I’ve committed depraved felonies upon her unpainted beauty, I
light candles & repent to a pagan idol, knowing we’ll sin again.

and when she has bitten me & urinated in my cave to leave her mark,
she runs free…


(Art: Paul von Borax)