Sex Stories

I have so many sex stories.

I have fucked a mechanical bull once,

No really, he was a Taurus,

An algorithm,

Operating on the data

Of far too many porn films.

 

I’ve had hate sex,

Those sessions are always fun.

A perfect storm of strangling, choking,

Biting, clawing at lightening bolts,

Of revenge,

Entangling

In ecstasy.

 

I have made a man whimper,

The star was born…

Announcing his arrival

In 3, 2, 1 format…

Exploding all over the stage

In clumsy abandon.

 

There was passion in Porto.

I’m sorry Paris,

Maybe someday,

I will set your streets ablaze

Allow roots to grow in my heart.

But the volcano erupted,

Elegantly,

In Porto.

 

Oh how we fucked

Dancing, intertwining

Watching our bodies burn,

From our reflection in the mirror,

Kissing every inch of my flesh,

Worshipping me.

 

I am writing a book. I cannot promise it will be completed in a year, or even a lifetime. That being said, I am baked, and I am shooting to profit from the universe of my infinite imagination.

Not to mention, I think society could benefit from these tales of vulnerability and desire. I have learned so much from my encounters, and being in the presence of naked women and men. The human nature is as evil as it is ridiculous, and one can act wisely with resilience to withstand the consequences of their own honesty, both with themselves and those around them. Others foolishly bulldoze their way to the destruction of the planet, and all living beings.

I am so fortunate. So very, very blessed to have acquired this insight into the psychological makeup of humans in their most raw and honest form.

To be continued, maybe…

Subject of my lust

Now who was this poem written about? I wonder…

A page from a chapter in my life. One which evidentally had an impact on my loins at the time, yet fails my memory in the present.

I’ve been writing my own story since I was 11. Personal growth is a fascinating subject to observe and document. Even when the spaces between remain unseen.

I have become fairly adept in the art of mindfulness, and have learned how to calm the physical and emotional symptoms of my anxieties.

Blank spots in my history continue to remind me of how important it is to remain rooted and steadfast in the present. How crucial it is to be aware of every waking moment, every sensation, every stimulation of the soul, the lips, the tongue, the eyes, the contours and curves of my body.

Every scent, and every taste.

Savour it. The present moment is only lived once.

Reborn

I have been with you

Through the snow,

Through the great depression,

Through the isolation

Of the soul.

 

You have been reborn,

And I with you.

We are consumating our love,

Once again…

The sun against my flesh,

Mounting your peaks,

Digging my fingers into your soil.

We are of the same spirit

You and I.

 

Spring has sprung.

There is a tree growing inside me,

Cherry blossoms blooming.

You planted your seeds in me.

I am growing.

Bilboards of what could have been…

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I don’t know why

You erase me from your grasp,

Only to slice off your own misguided hands

And regret your negligence to touch me

Ever.

Lust, you visit me at 4:00am…

Begging for forgiveness,

Demanding attention .

Why do you say goodbye,

Only to exceed the speed limit

On highways to nowhere?

Saudade is your soundtrack

As you drive past the billboards

Of what could have been.

Idiot.

Calling in favours…

The pasta I should have made…

So I have four Italians at my doorstep,

By no fault of their own.

They are cold, tired and hungry.
There were supposed to be two,
And I wasn’t supposed to be welcoming them,
For I am only a tennant,
In these faulty towers.

But there is happiness to this madness,
Tonight I shall indulge
All the pleasures…
Blatantly, and without inhibition.

Because no one can touch me,
Now that I have done another man’s job.
No one will dare knock on my door
Asking me to cease and desist,
When they cannot succeed at independence
In managing the affairs
of the self-orchestrated hurricane they call a life.

-Calling in favours

Growth is inevitable, or is it…

Wasteland

Some people grow

Like evergreen trees

A hybrid of eagle and wolf

Soaring

Carrying others to safety

Free from an oppressive past.

Technology, evolution, science,

An alliance

Of progression.

 

Others choose to remain trapped

In the past,

Bitter from the rigours

of climate change.

An apocalypse,

Fear of karma

Crippling guilt…

And decay.

 

The irony is that in seeking to protect themselves

from the ills of the past,

Those who stunt their own growth

Do to others, 

What they fear will be done to them. 

Jumping the gun. 

Proactive. 

Slaughter.

 

The circle.