And no...
I am not composed of molasses and cream
Or milk and honey
Though I think I'd melt if you ever told me I was
And made me believe it was so...
I'm simply a creation
Concocted of cells
Made up of 70% water
So let it not be a surprise
When you hurt my heart
And in turn
Tears leak from my eyes....
I am merely human
70% water
And I just ask that you love me
It'd be an honor if you knew my body
Well enough so that
When we made love
If ever we made love...
I'd never have to direct or speak
Because you'd know when I needed that slow remix
Rewind
Breakdown on my clit...
And when I needed it full speed ahead
Climax in 27 seconds flat type shit
It would mean you actually put some time into me...
Like I put sometime in to me...
Because I can hit that spot accidentally
More times than not
And I know your body better
Than the privileged pair of panties that
You elect to wear on occasion that
I'm so grateful to remove
And when I wonder if you love me
And how to make you want me...
Want me again like you once did...
I find myself wanting to taste like
Honey and milk and cream and molasses...
And I realize
That would be a shame if I did...
Because the pure taste of
Mangoes and
Nectarines
Would be soaked in something that...
It's not
And what's more desirable than something pure?
Nothing and everything all at once apparently...
Thus I twiddle my thumbs
While writing this...
Waiting for more time to elapse...
Because I'm sure
The next time...
When you look at me
When you...
Talk to me
Kiss me
Taste my homegrown love...
You'll remember how pure I am
70% water
And remember that desire
Deep down in your heart
That I'm sure is still there
And reflect it back into my heart
Clearer than that of the
Bluest pond.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Sheets
And though I
Match the masculine
To your feminine...
I am not afraid to tell you
To fuck me harder...
Nor am I afraid to tell you to stop
Because I know
The simple statement
Will cause a rise
In your imaginary member
And force you to soldier on relentlessly
I'm more so afraid to grip my sheets...
Because you know how I feel about my Egyptian cotton...
And the way you
PAUSE
POUND
ROTATE
Repeat...
Hitting my spot like
An elevator button
Pressed to take me higher
And higher
Just might make me tear these bitches---
Then again
I'm sure they've got them in stock somewhere...
Shit.
Match the masculine
To your feminine...
I am not afraid to tell you
To fuck me harder...
Nor am I afraid to tell you to stop
Because I know
The simple statement
Will cause a rise
In your imaginary member
And force you to soldier on relentlessly
I'm more so afraid to grip my sheets...
Because you know how I feel about my Egyptian cotton...
And the way you
PAUSE
POUND
ROTATE
Repeat...
Hitting my spot like
An elevator button
Pressed to take me higher
And higher
Just might make me tear these bitches---
Then again
I'm sure they've got them in stock somewhere...
Shit.
Verification
You
Fuck
Me
Up
And you know it...
And all I can do
Is listen to songs
That describe all the things I want to do
Dream and scribe the un-lived to be true
But it's
Not
Just
Me---
You tell her it's hers...
But in my top drawer along with your panties
Is where you left the receipt
To the pussy that
Belongs
To
Me---
You know I own it
Work it over
And nurture it.
Denial would simply be a waste of the time
That needs to be used
Remodeling your womb
From the inside out
Walls that need painting
Ceilings that can't be missed
Higher rooms
Just to accommodate the length and girth being dealt with
Although regardless
You'll always feel me in rooms I shouldn't be in
Small ponds
From small rivers
Leave trails
Of where to go
The next time something needs to be fixed---
I don't need you to tell me
It's
My
Pussy
The fact that my fingers fit you like a monogrammed glove
Tells me that it is
Brooklyn is embedded all in that shit
I know your spots
Then again...
I've shown them to you
Some of the old
All of the new
Deep
Slow
Hard
Let me play my congas in your jungle
Let me give you a reason to scale the walls
You know I can
You know damn well
But you'd rather not give in to your body's demands
And that's fine.
I can't lie...
You
Fuck
Me
Up...
And while you're trying not to let my name slip from your lips
As she struggles to swim in the river between your hips...
Thoughts of me
Deep
Slow
Hard
Rhythmically steady
Will be all you focus on...
And when you shiver
Glistening from throwing back what you've been blessed with from birth
She'll think she did it
As the craving for me to be inside of you gets worse and worse
You'll scratch my initials into your bed sheets
And when she's done splashing in foreign waters
You'll call me
For your post orgasm kiss...
So don't tell me
I don't
Have you
Fucked up
In the least bit.
I've already got verification.
Fuck
Me
Up
And you know it...
And all I can do
Is listen to songs
That describe all the things I want to do
Dream and scribe the un-lived to be true
But it's
Not
Just
Me---
You tell her it's hers...
But in my top drawer along with your panties
Is where you left the receipt
To the pussy that
Belongs
To
Me---
You know I own it
Work it over
And nurture it.
Denial would simply be a waste of the time
That needs to be used
Remodeling your womb
From the inside out
Walls that need painting
Ceilings that can't be missed
Higher rooms
Just to accommodate the length and girth being dealt with
Although regardless
You'll always feel me in rooms I shouldn't be in
Small ponds
From small rivers
Leave trails
Of where to go
The next time something needs to be fixed---
I don't need you to tell me
It's
My
Pussy
The fact that my fingers fit you like a monogrammed glove
Tells me that it is
Brooklyn is embedded all in that shit
I know your spots
Then again...
I've shown them to you
Some of the old
All of the new
Deep
Slow
Hard
Let me play my congas in your jungle
Let me give you a reason to scale the walls
You know I can
You know damn well
But you'd rather not give in to your body's demands
And that's fine.
I can't lie...
You
Fuck
Me
Up...
And while you're trying not to let my name slip from your lips
As she struggles to swim in the river between your hips...
Thoughts of me
Deep
Slow
Hard
Rhythmically steady
Will be all you focus on...
And when you shiver
Glistening from throwing back what you've been blessed with from birth
She'll think she did it
As the craving for me to be inside of you gets worse and worse
You'll scratch my initials into your bed sheets
And when she's done splashing in foreign waters
You'll call me
For your post orgasm kiss...
So don't tell me
I don't
Have you
Fucked up
In the least bit.
I've already got verification.
The Harvest
Plowing in the field
My head buried in your neck
Waiting on the harvest
Ready for the fruit of your labor to be released
And to tease my palate
Strange fruit ain’t so strange
Nor is it an acquired taste
Because I don't want any one to acquire
The fruits of my labor but you
Plowing...
Ready to reap the reward
My head buried in your neck
Waiting on the harvest
Ready for the fruit of your labor to be released
And to tease my palate
Strange fruit ain’t so strange
Nor is it an acquired taste
Because I don't want any one to acquire
The fruits of my labor but you
Plowing...
Ready to reap the reward
Strange Fruit Compote
Strange fruit ain't so strange
'Least not in my neighborhood---
That's all we eat here.
'Least not in my neighborhood---
That's all we eat here.
Felt Up
Covers hold me better than any soul could
But I’d rather feel a soul do it wrong
Just for the sake of feeling a soul at all.
But I’d rather feel a soul do it wrong
Just for the sake of feeling a soul at all.
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