Proceed

The mind goes plum with desire.
it quivers and curls
under a nuisance of squirming organs.
Wet,
not quite fully there.
The street lamp casts a shade of yellow
so dim,
it is more of a shadow.
There the pupil of sex lingers,
waiting,
desiring
a fix of the plump mind.
Darkness ensues all around,
nothing to be seen, but this
dim, dehydrated pee-colored light,
resting on the shoulders of this inconsequential
creature of plain and true lust.
All is quiet,
an eerie quiet giving away
the damned intentions of the soul.
Not a customer to be seen all night.
The plump mind does not deviate,
yet is steadfast to the job that must be done.
A look at the right hand,
a wink and glisten in the eye.
Three fingers in mouth,
pants down,
index first pushes up mildly
into the pink wet underbelly of this demonic undertaking.
Under the dreary yellow light,
a howl emerges.
Pleasure has dawned,
and the sun, oh the sun,
starts to climb up from the horizon.

Some Things Are Meant To Be Remembered (and are not)

What was that dream last night?

               It was foreboding, uncomfortable.


                          I need to remember, lest I forget.



         
                             "Lest we forget"



sweaty with urgency.
something was not right.

                                        Yet, mostly,
                                                            it was fine.





 What was that dream last night?

               Trashcans, people, sweat.


                           The cursor blinks violently on the computer screen.

                                        "I cannot remember, can't you see?!?"



                                                   




                                                                                                                 Blank.

                                                     

my secret pleasures arise alone.

lethargy grumbles from inside my molten stomach-

             pitiful.


                        ....no, not quite, pitiful...





                                                               ...more, lonesome than pitiful.








and lay,
             lay alone inside the fortress built of wood and love.




safe.
        alone.
                  content.

                               under the starlet of a single mind coursing through loneliness


              with pleasure.