Indicted

What do we have between us? You are so rough and you rip me, like sandpaper across silk. I am unraveling and tattered.

All we had is incredible, blazing hot, supernova sex. If you can even call it that. What we do doesn’t actually have a name. It is as a thought- I am surrounded by you and when you withdraw from me, I shrink back into nothingness.

I try not hold that, for once the sweat has dried, we hit a wall, over and over until we are battered and bleeding.

On the way to you, I saw a man walking along. From the back, it could have been you. Cocky stance, his purposeful stride, the way his jeans hung on him, the slant of his belt, his beautiful expensive shoes and his hair, the way it was a tad too long but nicely cut, so it enhanced his head and made him look better than fresh baked bread.

It was a portent, for that is what I have of you; the walking away, the silence of your back, you head help high, as your eyes burn and your heart clenches, from the anger I cause to rise in your throat.

I bet it chokes you at night. It just makes me weep.

Doppelganger

You think one thing but your mouth forms another. And your eyes betray the third thought floating.

Liar liar, soul on fire. Burning through abandonment,  caused by your duplicity.

Placing my left hand on your heart, from which all defilement flows, I quickly etch the sign on the skin on your throat.

Your smooth throat. One I used to touch. The conduit that funnels the filth from the cradle of your charred heart and holds it for just a moment, before your mind and tongue subvert it further.

Two simple incisions, blood beading in the wake of my knife. One vertical, one horizontal.

To some the cross saves. But you are not Christ.  For me, it reminds that you are more beast than brethren.

I stare at you, dare you to speak. Speaking is what got us to this point.

Do the tears from your eyes sting the mark that you will wear?

Your innocent throat. Least guilty, bears your shame.

A symbol to all that you are rotten to the core, unclean, a thing to be shunned.

In another time and place, the pure version of you gasps. Stumbling, gripping her throat, eyes blurring with tears of confusion.

No water

I sent forth a tendril of now into the past.

It was sent back to me; diseased, angered, sour.

A sensible sadist- wise man, he-told me never to cry in front of a man.

I did not have to fear that I would, for the well is dry and filled with heavy dust.

The tendril of inquiry snapped gently, as I walked over its decaying frame.

Dite moi…

No matter what I may think or feel, my mission is complete.

Through blood, sweat, tears, pain, anguish… I saved you.

I bear subtle scars and the twinges of anger that came from beating back the horde.

It was all worth it.

You are free.

Fly…

~~~~~~~~~~

Procedamus in pace
In nomine Christi, Amen

Adoring

I kneel in the shadows of the Church. My eyes are on the statue of Christ, but my mind sees past it, to what he really should look like. Warm, kind, loving, luminous.

In this state, my mind wanders to you. For you are all those things to me.

I cannot feel Him on my flesh, but only in my heart.

I can feel you. Your are hard but warm. Silky hot to the touch.

Your hands, they warm me, pull me closer, push me towards my true purpose.

I have laid my head upon the stone Christ, my face cradled against his hard feet, my hands clutching his legs. My breath made small tears upon his sculpted robes.

I have buried my face into your firm flesh, marveled that such lean sinew could still be comforting.

I have been impaled by your cock, and cried out both your names, marveling and swooning in ecstasy.

Taking you within me, in anyway you want, is not what they say it is. It is the only weapon I have in the war to rescue you from the seductiveness of the Pit. I fight fire with fire,water, blood, tears, and pain.

He owns me but He gives me to you, for your use, your delight, even your abuse. He touches my mind, and shows me what I can and must do.

It has been said that there is nothing better than to give one’s life for one’s friend. I have also been told the Holiest of Flesh was given for us.

I give my body, my blood, my heart, my total being.

All to save you.

You cannot be lost.

Go down

You were waiting for me, as I opened the door.

Gently, you rubbed my face. You asked if I loved you.

In the blurry illumination eeking from the lamp, I could only see one side of your face, the rest in shadow But I flinched from the pain I saw there, spilling into the light.

My entire body screams at you all the day, “only you I love.” In that moment, you did not want to cipher or guess.

My mouth opens, the words tumble out.

Soon, more words pierced my ears and I started to cry.

You asked me not to, for that means you feel something that you do not need to right now.

You promised to not hurt me, not not lay me open, as you will others.

There, in the thick darkness, I licked the palms of defeat and loss and recoiled from the sour bitter taste.

If you are not you-not precious, good, receptive-then I have lost the ground I have gained.

You kissed me. You soul whisked across my lips, tickled my nose.

I buried my fingers into you hair, attempting to feel the texture of your heart, so that i can find my way to it, no matter how black the night gets, how blind I may become.

Give me

Give me pain. Burn away the loneliness I carry when you are gone.

Give me joy. Crush my terror of losing you.

Give me your spit, your sweat, your groans, your sighs and weeping, your doubt.

Give me your time. Bits, drips, nibbles, gushing chunks.

Give me tears-hurt me, so that I can let the water drain from my soul, onto my cheeks.

givemeyourcumafteryoufillmyass. givemeascorchedcuntfromhefrictionofyourcockbatteringme. givemecrampsinmyneck,givemeasorethroatfromgaggingonyourcock.

Give me the serenity that comes from being emptied by you of all that I don’t need.

give

me

your

love.

Not seen

I can’t see you. The lights are bright but my heart is heavy. My eyes are clouded with tears.

I fear that you are slipping out of my grasp, like water evaporates in an open jar.

My tools are my body.

I use them, to gain more time, more strength, to save you.

The Line

I cannot cross the boundary erected between us. Constructed by you, fortified by my ego.

Subtle, not seen, until I am almost, just almost…I lift my leg to step over them.

Back. I am slammed, to that space where all we do is stare.

Your body, tensed, cries out for me to touch you, for that would cause the edifice to fall, the towers to be laid open, ruined and starkly bare.

You open your mouth. Smoke seeps out. It folds around my ears but nothing is clear.

Will you be able to speak when I caress the long sinuous throat that contains the words I need to hear, trapped like all the tiny sparrows? I see their wings beating, pulsing, against the fragile skin of your neck.

Before, in the dark, I have traced the path from your heart to your lips. Your breath gently escaped your mouth, causing frost to form on my lashes, in the fine hairs above my lips.

Somehow, it has wound into my chest, for I am still partially frozen, afraid to be in either a solid or liquid state.

I stand, I walk, I crawl. Towards that barely perceptible barrier.

Holding tightly to the image of your throat, the pathway from your lips to heart, in my head.

Open your mouth and cause the world to rotate for another day.

Found within

You crawl to me before the dawn. Softly begging pleading. Your whispered words curling around my ears like poisonous vines.

“Please.

I love you

Don’t go.”

It takes to much to deal with you, your desires, your needs.

Because I do not want you. You refuse to see. I told you that I love another.

All I can do for you is hold you down and catch your tears, as a man takes your ass and I laugh at your shock.