deepundergroundpoetry.com
It's Not That Bad.
Our days are numbered, you're the revelation,
sick like a pill that makes my head spin.
Read the packet:
must not drive heavy machinery
must not drive you mad
must not drive myself to stunning distraction
and somehow in the conversation
here in the stained silk sheets
I question how far
my dizzy head will push
through the darkness when you're achingly playing
until I am breaking, uneasy, queasy on morals
and guidelines that have been stitched into my long socks
and stay, intent on bringing guilt...
...Now hush
as these clothes
are losing touch
like running tap water,
ice cold,
my violent skull teetering
on the attack you conceal
as gentle,
binding me with chains
I can not see.
Remind me to try
silence
though it angers you -
count to three.
There needs to be
my control, darling,
if I lose it
and lose you
to a dance with lust
I might get sentimental.
Keep it simple -
face down with
my back arching
and my hips high
and my fingers trembling,
scratching the sheets for anything,
anything substantial to cling to,
my breathing needs to be calm...
You're captured between
my pasty thighs, where release is, though I protect
and protest
- must not respond
I quiver
but keep my cool,
enough that you resume trying
not realising you're already satisfying
me.
I told you I was greedy.
If you want me
to convulse around your
knowledgeable shaft
you're going to need to push
over the brink,
passed the point where I can complain.
I wake sore in the mornings
and I'm aching again by lunch,
don't need protein, fat, carbohydrates anymore
but red
in the face
and shining with sweat
I'm in debt
to embarrassment.
The chains are real
and there's a hole
I need filled
until I can't bare it to be filled.
Over the bonnet,
head hit wall,
kitchen table,
around you,
all over you,
innocently under you like some spider monkey.
I can't influence the decisions you make, your lips upon my...
it's hard to write,
to even speak
and I'm not sure I want to,
sometimes documenting kills the heat
and now that you have flaws I still want every beat
of your thumping chest to be working me
to an orgasm.
Could you work me
like the horse no one else could break in?
________________________
(I haven't done this in a while, my apologies.)
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