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Image for the poem The blasphemy of wander

The blasphemy of wander

Your white wife-beater tank
out of the dryer, hot and soft
damn— that sweltering, tiny little inkling    
is all it takes  
and a heart  
collides  
with snapped tension  
   
Like an instant summer storm,    
bands of raging fuck-want  
roll across my Serengeti  
morphing dried desert    
into a vast array of wetted oases  
   
Blinded self fulfillment  
screams her sordid agony  
from the mere idea of  
white softness    
laying upon your skin  
   
Needing that material  
craving it like life giving sustenance  
with my derelict thoughts  
directing-- controlling my hands    
   
Using warm fresh cotton    
it's sacredness, my sex 'Shroud of Turin'    
a blasphemous thought, that roars molten    
I tie my wrists together    
tightening the knot with my mouth  
spilling desire with each trace of drool    
   
Ashamed, at the extent of it    
yet fearless in this,  
my self searing exodus    
control, being freed and unleashed    
   
Surrender will be found    
in muffled whimpers of my own fingers    
forcing the taste of me    
on my tongue, imbued with you    
   
Licking of fused ambrosia    
over and over  
savouring the suffering    
how the binding, so exalts  
   
Volleying penetration    
recognizing  
knowing    
exactly  
how demands are want    
to feel    
to see  
to hear    
 
Slow pushes    
wandering on precarious waves    
between punishment and reward  
teetering there  
on the torturous edge    
in an almost insane state of being    
   
   
   
   
   
 
and.    
just.    
like.  
directed.    
 
   
   
   
   
 
Bluevelvete
Written by Bluevelvete
Published
Author's Note
Sometimes art is life, retold.
©Blu2021
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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