Tag Archives: longing

A Taunting Mind

A mind that taunts one
thousand thoughts in the thick layers of the night.

What is it that brings this mis-timed
mind into the daylight hours
when the moon still catches-light?

Visions of binging fingers
continuously grazing the
palette of yours.

Imposter, frauded and fooling
those of who I am not.

What can this rest bring that
I cannot reach during the day?
Why must I sleep when it does nothing
but pass the day into days,
counting and reshuffling, forcing
me to move on?

Layer-thin walls.
I hear in them my fighting thoughts.

Oh how I miss your face.
Oh how I miss your voice.
Oh how I love you so.

And how alone and cold the weeknights and ends are.

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A Disgrace by Armrests

Oh, how nice it feels
may I confess, a moment
of warmth as your
leg casually leans
on my thigh.

My dear, we sit an
armrest apart, and
between the seats a
war blooms, yet
the skies remain clear
as long as you continue
to touch me so.

Alas, the play,
I do so repent. Forgive
me muse for not playing
my part to appreciate
the outward displays of art.
But you must understand, I beg
you please, to find in your
gracious hearts to forgive me
with my dear.

Grace his body with a
graze of my hand.
Noble art, is this.
Divine meditation to
lie with my heart.

Forgive my mind, imagining
ahead of time as at
the present of space, our
bodies divided but by his
simple touch.

An Imagined Scene

Your hand is on my thigh,
stroking the fabric to
stroke the skin down underneath;
strumming a song on a fretless board.

Higher and higher, where will
it go? Circling and navigating
to a source undefined.

Climbing the mountain to
the knee top
subtly evading the others’ eyes
with well-crafted choreographed
messages spelt out along
the contour of my thighs.

Clever lad, you,
well done for what you know.
What you’re committing to me, any
others need not ever know.

In my mind
because I don’t know where you are.

I part your lips,
kissing your ears
touching all parts of your atmosphere.
Only in my mind, though,
because I don’t know where you are.

I’ll work the life from my bones

I’ll work the
life from my bones.
Walk wearylike home
if that means to be prized
by you.

Who was I to think that I could
capture your heart so guarded?
Who were you to feign emotion
so well?

Quell these thoughts –
disarrange the pattern
that batters the brain.

Have I not had enough
of these messages
constantly sent by a part of me
I’d rather never know?

Served once more,
battered by a war I have long since
stopped fighting,
I feel the absence of you
again and again and again
until the weight causes the water in my
eyes to erupt.

They haven’t your accent,
but theirs will do for now.

Every writing I commit,
every action I set – is only in the
vain attempts to prove myself, I admit.

Isn’t it funny how wherever I go,
there is a memory of you?
A haunting, an etching
that makes this city only
an extension of you.

To decrease the distance between us two to

 

I am willing this bus to

decrease the distance between us two
to a much more reasonable few feet,
with two feet running to decrease the feet
to mere inches,
with four arms to annul the distance all together.

But I am still here, miles away
wishing to an unacting God to bring me to you.
To obliterate the traffic,
not to kill them,
but to misplace them all for just a minute or two
until I am right here with you

Can you hear me? These are my yells
for a union of two bodies to crash into one
just as when I discovered my love for you.

Can you hear me? Because I would
rather like it if I knew I was not yelling
alone.

But I am still here, stationary
on a sometimes moving rectangle
wishing that I could sprint the distance,
but the distance is much too far for
these two feet and two arms.

Oh how I’d like to make these pair of twos
into a creation of four – waltzing
and reeling together into a jig of slowed down time.

Just as this bus slows to allow
a fellow off, but can they too not
hear my incessant screams that beg you to
me?

Here I am. Can you hear me
breathing and fighting time
with the writing of my hand?

Where are you?
Are you yelling, too?

These streets are a tangle of knots.
I’d rather us be the streets that tie so easily
together.

Quiet my heart to the yelling
of my head. Faster!
Shift me to him, I scream.
Bring him to me, I beg you
all. Shift away, for just a minute or two
so that he and I might become
two.