beauty, lust, poetry, sex, women


The warm sweetness of your skin

Sometimes the want makes it

difficult not to tear you away

ravish you until you’re insensible

stretching out each moment

as you tremble beneath my rough hands

gentle in the tender places

a musician’s hand

an artist’s eye

a poet’s tongue

all once the art has been made

at play against your skin

you might tire of my weakness in time,

but the strength which flows through me,

lets you alone at my whim

and when the urge occurs,

i would take you

over and over

until the walls dripped with sweat

and you,

supine and glorious,

beg me enough



beauty, love, masculinity, poetry, women

fire in the broken places

Apart from things

Which no longer hurt

Bled until my limbs grew numb

But walked until it clotted

There’s more to me

Than my failings 

Temporary flaws

Burned to flakes of white ash

In the fire of my determination,

so you see,

I am careful and quiet

In my appreciation

a warm arrogance 

and informed by

the quiet knowledge

I know I will survive

But touch my broken places

I’m stronger there

And does your touch

Reach past to the warmth

Which exudes there

Makes your palms damp

With its roiling heat.

beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women


cover you in candyskin

so i can eat it off you

composed of licks

like masterful brushstrokes

against canvas

throb against me

because here,

i am the slow roll of thunder

building to a point where

you turn me into an animal

every nerve wired and directed

towards the release

inside you

but the storm builds

and the charge grows

trembling and thickening

pin you to the bed

force your thighs apart

because my want

is the path through the woods

and when i lay you down

sometimes rough with the want

you are not at grandmother’s house

but with a wolf

and so my tongue licks slow

warm and languid

cover you in candyskin

so i can eat it off you


beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, Uncategorized, women

touch leaves marks

It’s in the breath

Thickened air

Each one lends weight

To the last

Carved over being grown

And all you need do

Is impress me as to

Whether I give the gift

Of myself to you

Laugh, call me arrogant

But no woman wants a lovable loser,

Sure, settle but you’ve done that,

And although I am not tuxedo and roses,

I am what nightmares run from,

You can feel small

Resting against me

My irrational self-confidence,

Isn’t so irrational

When my touch

Brings a small whimper to

The cupids bow of your lips

And I’m not insecure,

Because that implies

I’m not good enough,

And I am,

Not perfection because that’s dull and impossible,

You’d think I was some monster wearing a golden mask,

Rather than a beast who tried being a Prince,

And realised he could still be a beast

Without stockings or powdered wigs,

My touch leaves marks,

But they’re sigils,

Brands of intention which glow

When you see my face

Hear my voice




beauty, hunger, lust, poetry, women

A quiet glow

Breathe to

Keep it at bay,

Calling it a need

Implies that it’s a weakness

A charge building

Pooling in the hollow places

Enough to tear down

Buildings with my bare hands

I want to tear you apart

Plunge into you and write

Prayers on your bones

To the wild god within me

I’m capable of

Such loving violence

Yet the same impulse

Warrants caution 

Expressed with the delicacy

Of wonder

Surrender and I shall

Keep out the cold

With the fire within me

Even as it’s power

Turns my words to ash

And I sing, glowing like

Phosphorus given oxygens kiss

beauty, love, poetry, women

make it rain

In this

Even as sometimes

Notes get chorded 

With clumsy


But the song plays on

And when it’s my turn to

Solo I might drop the notes

Create dissonance

But I keep a straight face

Keep playing

Breathing open to the

Feeling and risking

Bringing it all down

In pursuit of something greater

Than myself

But there are storms 

Of wonder called 

By the music 

And even though the skies 

Might be bone dry

I’ll crank up the volume

And make it rain

Hot and sweet

beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, Uncategorized, women

To, At, For.

Sat there,

Quiet and about my purpose,

But I look across,

You catch me, and you see beneath the calm

To the surge of feeling beneath.

Sometimes you laugh it off,

With me, not at me,

You test me but only so I

Remain calm in the storm

Of your being

But you see in me,

The animal

It turns looks into


Kisses to bites,

It guides my fingers to your throat

And sculpts my smile

Into a mask of divine fury,

Possessed of such control

Each thrust is a sonnet,

Howled by nature’s chorus

Between your thighs

As I gift you with a force

So powerful

It feels larger than my body

Can contain

So as I come





You smile and touch my face,

See how gentle you make me,

In the languid, heated moments

Where the only music

Is the soft melody of our