I purge shovels of my soul

wanting to construct her

needs of cemented lust

rebuild the skeletal frame

to withstand lightning

leaving spent embers

on the pitted earth

mold her putty

into new person

a fragile crushing

of her spirit

making her my own

fix the broken pieces

dynamite existence

throbbing luminosity

salted carapace

weeping in kettled steam

erupting in torrents

as I doff my shirt

of crimson urges

and writhe with

serpentine moon

burning in spasm 

of virgin beginning.

The languid movement of my hand

As it draws near the edge of

The vessel of your warmth

My hands inch closer

And closer

Until I bump into the finality of a caress

A sudden jolt caused by the sweltering heat

Of the hesitant touch of my fingertips

To your sides

I take you as you take me

Breathing slowly

Inhaling your familiar musk

I love this

I love how easy it is to gulp you

And feel you in my veins

This is how I prefer

To start my mornings

With the gullible surrender brought by

Coffee

Friction ignites

Light and heat

Smolder, dance

Flames grow

Taller, hotter

Threaten to

Overtake

Then, slowly

Fade to glowing

Embers

Of laceration, and of

Love,

The air at times

Thickens

With grief...

…And in our bondage,

Gambler’s fold

…Wet fluids gush,

Slacken the drive,

And knock the

Hot air

Out my hut...

...Yank coral rug

From nether

Regions

Under weight...

...The air contorts,

Bending wet

Sheets

That swell,

And spank

The wayward

Night!...

...What is this

Titillating

Fight

Of laceration,

And of love?...

...I pause to pity

My poor dove

Who hit the

Power-line

While soaring...

Split by the biting ice

Of mourning,

She’s sprawled upon a

Freshly

Polished porch...

My comet soul

Is pitching

Down,

And diving towards

Her darkest

Place...

This body yearns

To fly like spit

From off a hobo

Fire-pit, and

Through the worm-

hole,

Straight to the

Heart...

...I see you

Naked through

Thin vapors,

And my whole

World

Falls apart!…

...Ache to be

Close,

I do now thirst...

To see the face

I most desire...

Missing you most

In flitting flames…

Wishing to taste where

You perspire…

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

Now the thing about fucking,

You should know, surely

Is it’s not really fucking

If you do it purely

We had sex to The Killers

I wish it had killed me

The feeling alone

Was enough to fulfill me

When I hear the chorus

I still get nostalgic

Longing for lost,

With a feeling that’s phallic

You opened me up

I wish that you hadn’t

I know that I’m see through

To you, I’m transparent

This pedestal of mine,

Is probably projection

We’ve all got our ways

of facing rejection

Because the thing about loving,

You should know surely,

Is it’s not really loving

If you do it purely