I plant my feet in the thick brown earthen paint.
I feel it seep in between my toes.
I feel good for a little while.
Then the thick layer hardens and grows heavy.
It’s natural; crystalline.
And some even say it has the power to heal yet I grow ill
Tempered with time I become dirty.
Take it back to basics and it’s just dirt and water.
Put it in a tile lined tub next to seaweed raps and sugar scrubs
Does it somehow become less unclean?
Since you left I haven’t slept worth crap.
The sheets that once slipped, silk against
My nipples, now scratches and clings.
The dyslexic street lamp outside my bedroom
Window taps out “miss you, too” in Morse Code.
Drifting off into the whirlpool of frustration
My mind wanders to those moments of
Post-coital haze. Early evening.
The sun has dipped and amber light
Watches through the gap in the curtains.
pussy noun –
1. Informal. a cat, especially a kitten.
2. a warm, wet feminine channel that welcomingly takes the aggressive thrusting of its male counterpart. It snugly embraces his phallus, squeezes and sucks, until the man is brought to his knees in ecstatic surrender.
3. Slang: derogatory and offensive. person(s), especially female, perceived as weaker, more timid, and overall lesser than their “manly” peers. Is proven inappropriately derived because see definition 2.
From across the room I can see the wheels turning behind your eyes
And my pulse quickens.
As you sidle up to the bar I watch your eyes make a quick study up and down
And I wonder if you are measuring in Celsius, Fahrenheit, or Kelvin.
From the Windsor knot to the Oxfords
You project a crisp clean vernacular;
No urban dictionary here.
Leaving the Velveeta pickup lines to the frat boys in the corner
Your introduction is simple and smooth.
I take a sip of the large glass of cosmology you order, with a lime wedge for garnish,
Why must beauty be gentle?
Soft, pure, pastel, and delicate…
Can I not be striking, spectacularly singular?
Purple and white, a brilliant streak of energy
Tearing the sky in two and bolting down the sides.
I want to be a blazing fire; an inferno that burns away,
Not into a temperate pool of gray haze and nothingness,
But into incandescent embers
And anxious tinder that awaits re-ignition.
Behold the rose I grasp in my hand.