blogging, creative writing, women, writing

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It needed a touch of focus and polish, so here it is. Please share with people who might enjoy my work. Or your enemies, it’s not up to me what you do with it.

M B B

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poetry, women, masculinity, beauty, love

Whether dream

https://mbblissett.com/2019/06/20/whether-dream/

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beauty, love, masculinity, poetry, women

Whether dream

Streets turned to mirrors

Marking time with cigarettes

And in my head

I’m twisting you to points of

Sublime, complicated pleasure

Being smart is sometimes

As much a burden as being aroused

The world mocks the man

Who owns himself

Good

Bad

But my kisses are sweet

And before the world calls me

Home

One last kiss

Whether dream

Whether real

To send us off

To whatever comes

Next

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books, erotica, love, lust, women

51R

51R

U 83L0NG 2 51R

A novel from M B Blissett.

A woman enters into a virtual world to realise her darkest fantasies and falls in love with the man responsible for bringing them to life, pitting her against the rules of the world she has entered.

Coming soon from L&MB Press.

 

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beauty, love, lust, poetry, women

Driving Me Mad

Grounded by the weight of the

Unresolved lust

Slow and heavy

Almost adolescent with irritated

Acceptance

Coiled and ready to bite

Spit and clutch until

The poison drains away

Never more alive than when

I lean into my hunger

Bend you over and make you gasp

Raw and impolite

As ever, gentle ferocity

And clumsy with release

I struggle to breathe with it

Aware and awake,

Sullen animal with your scent in my nostrils

And, baby girl, it’s driving me

Mad.

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beauty, love, men, poetry, women

Coffee, with demons.

Being good

Practices

Magic spells to ward old devils away

Being able to leave your phone unattended,

Without the low hum of fear

Running nails down your spine

But no one notices

Because you’re supposed to

And no cookies for the bad boy

Who is being a good man,

Coffee with my devils,

Black, no sugar

But he ladles dessert spoons worth,

Into his

She’s asleep,

Could go through and tell her,

But no, goodness is simpler

And I don’t beg

There is no notion of getting lucky

There is

There isn’t

I know magicians

And she told me about

Compassionate compromise

So, in the wan hours of morning,

Sat and talking,

With my demons,

Educated to a point of refinement,

It is almost invisible.

And the only things cut are

The horns from his head,

But sometimes,

They still sting.

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