two
three
four
five,
minutes under me, you stare, I compress.

All of your sex, engulfed by the in-arbitrary wish of keeping you inside,
the inevitable mistake of exposing my wish
the art of engaging in what we secretly have craved for so long

mb2017

Seeking the approving tremble of your body, the feel of your hands landing on my arms, hands up on my face, hold of my chin and make me stare at you
the real you
the overwhelming eyes that scream at you will not divert

we spent hours talking before. all my eyes seek is your voice. make you talk again.

 I like building whatever is behind me. the scene, the set, this imperfect, homemade world that exists in my head, that i can touch and capture in photo form. to then dismantle, take it apart, tidy it away.
Only you (the viewer) and me know it exists.

And when Im at home and look around, I know it's here somewhere, that it's been here once, but nobody else can see it.

the secret world of me. and you.

next time, i'm willing to give you the keys.

composing a brand new blank

It's striking in composition, it's absolutely sterile and insipid.
the vapour trail of you and me.

Pour the words in my ears, make a fake promise or two and I will jerk you off
off out of your system, off my radar, your bullshit stays.

but then there are the days that I feel slightly touched by the tiny little actions that I read so much into.

cumming over and over and over again.
I want to release the unleashed. it's coming so fast , long time going,
I will cum on you on a splash
.
.
.
and wash your bullshit away, as if it had never happened.

in my head

When the room is empty of our stories, when the room is empty of our bullshit, I want nothing more than reality. I want to feel the anger inside my gut exploding down my legs. Make a puddle of my best, right on your stomach. Sitting on your crotch and staring at your devious face. I scream a fucking thousand thoughts in silence, all you hear is the occasional outside noise cutting through the windows and filling the room we are.

we are

a couple of accidents, of excuses we gave ourselves.

we are so wrong it doesn't feel right whatever it is that happens.

But we like it. it is not to say we don't get used to it. Like  your hands down my pants, pressing hard and trying hard, until we are both soaked in whatever happened to be my pleasure, to be my penitence too.

Here's a reason to sit on you again: get you moist as I please, then down on my knees, so I can lick it all off again.

in my head, it's the last time.

in my head

myriads

I was never sure what impact you'd have on me.
On my skin, you stayed for brief minutes, stained my face with your pleasure, bruised my lips. I was thirsty for you.

On the big corner sofa, so many words exchanged, so much time we spent just throwing memories, retelling stories that other ears wouldn't understand. I understand. your lips going down my legs, all I wanted.

Id crawl to you if I had to. Id throw myself in bed and retreat. Under a variety of moments, I stared at you, at your care. Maneuvering my body as if the most fragile piece you've ever handled. I still didn't understand by that point. Piercing you as I stared, I was somehow cursing you to be mine.

leaving was much of a rush, but of a rush also going through my head. my legs still shaking, my pleasure still running and sticking to the fresh clothes I've chosen to cover up any of my shame. I have no shame. urges come and go.

and when you are out there, in the field, hiding, running, hunting. I am also wandering, seeking the same. Our paths never to cross again even if all we have is this vivid impression that that would be possible.

I will be the taste you will crave half way through a random night hunting. the disappointment of never getting to see the same marks over each other again.

wrong turn

for all that remains and for all that vanishes.
the time has gone, will never stay. and I will never be sure where I really stand.
when it comes to what it's happening

the body follows a faint trace of dubstep
the heart beats faster than the body shakes

then the tears drop. drop down in an avalanche of emotions mixture. of mistaken assumptions. of despair and   no notion of where you are.

then clothes are teared off, anything flat can comfort, or maybe balancing on heels against a wall makes it all a big misunderstanding. the physical and animal makes the abstract and the emotion turn into a big bowl of bullshit.
so angry for letting it all take over. so sad to see it all gone.

there's a tic tac sound, stuck in my head, my bed, so far away, can't hold any of my thoughts, all of my weight wasted on the floor, seeking time.

I thought you were mine. that there was nowhere to hide anymore. no more of more. time turned you into gold. a treasure I've buried so deep, I cant dig you out.

But the traces remain evident. I follow the lines, the trick is on not leaving any marks.

"it will be ok. it will pass"

just like the words that came out of your mouth once. never stayed. you never stayed.

then another night wasted, permanent damage done, another stranger left wondering. legs shaking, the adrenaline running. pleasure running down the legs.

and its not about you. its about  need. my measurement of happiness. my immediate relief.
 all i need. all i need.

five minutes down my legs, whatever way you prefer.
release my pleasure in your hands
whisper you mistaken words.
push you away, leave no trace.

watch you go to be free again. I set you free and lock the door.