The blasphemy of want (Spoken Word)

  
His 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        
scream sordid agony        
at the mere idea    
of that particular white softness        
laying upon his skin        
       
Needing to feel the material    
craving it's saturated strength    
as my derelict thoughts        
direct-- controlling my hands        
       
Using warm fresh cotton,        
it's sacredness, my sex 'Shroud of Turin'        
a blasphemous thought    
roars molten        
   
I tie my wrists together        
and tighten the knot with my mouth       
spilling raw desire with every    
luscious trace of drool        
       
Ashamed at the extent of it        
yet fearless in my self searing exodus        
where relinquished control    
unleashes illustrious rivulets of freedom    
       
Surrender is forged        
in muffled whimpers of my own fingers        
forcing the taste of me     
on my tongue, imbued with you        
       
Proud lips tinted  
of sweet ambrosia   
sanction the savouring of suffering    
and sing out in pure exaltation      
       
Volleying penetration        
recognizing        
knowing        
exactly        
how demands are want        
   
to feel        
to see        
to hear        
       
Slow intentional pushes        
fiercely wander in    
and  on cresting waves        
between punishment and reward        
   
It's there    
where I maddeningly teeter    
upon my torturous edge        
in a sublime state of being        
       
       
       
       
       
       
and.        
just.        
like.      
directed.