beauty, desire, dominance, emotion, empowerment, erotic poetry, experience, hunger, love, lust, masculinity, passion, pleasure, poetry, sensuality, sex, storm, Uncategorized, wildness, wisdom, women, writing

Spiders In Paper Cups

Wrestling with 

What is versus

What could be

That for your propriety

Expressed as a causal dislike of mess

How it would excite you

To kiss my soft lips

Glazed with the perfume of sex

How, for all your assertions of independence

You are never quite as free

As when my gentle hands

Make fists of your hair

Livid pink marks on your skin

Crescent suck marks that fade


How you can cry and dance

To the music of your anger

Without my scrabbling for

A reason, stopping the music

To figure out the steps.

A poetic beast

Who decants spiders

Into paper cups

And wishes them well

When they are escorted

From the premises

But would kill


Inner and outer

With lustful cries

Of glory. 

You cannot scare me away

I am immovable


Loving in resolution

I am myself

With or without you

I penetrate you

Peerless in heart and soul


Finding humour in the constant

Swirl of your emotions

But remaining

A furred, throbbing

Column of certainty

Exhaust yourself

Against me

So that you might


And I would rob you

Of constant, tempestuous thought

Replace it with

A feeling that pulls

Planets from orbit. 

Tied to the bed

Exorcised with pleasure

Until your demons

Wither before

The bright flame

Of my 



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