beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women

Animal Comfort

I transmute


The beautiful within

The filth

I reciprocate

In the mercurial dance

Of passion even as

The tempo changes

My motives are the

Primal made manifest,

Made true by actions


I draw from the depths

And celebrate the wild

Constant change within you,

Not as supplicant

But as one who sees

The hunger in your eyes,

The games we make up

On the spot and mourn

When the world calls us in

To dinner and there is still

Light enough to play by.

I have no motives

Beyond the reflections

We cast of one another,

Baby girl,

And the desire to act

On primal instincts

To build a fire

Against the darkness,

Wrap a fur around

Shivering shoulders

And to fuck

You to smithereens

Pass the time

In seeing how hard I can make

You feel





Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s