Boredom and Insomnia = old poetry

To Mate Me

It begins slowly,
as we study each other. Our solitary forms
tense in anticipation of this
new found passion.
Hands, poised above attentive figures

Is this game of affection important,
or are these aggressive movements just clever attempts,
to steal away the astonishment
in my face?

shoulders sliding, back
and forth as you shift positions, a panther
stalking prey, swaying seductively.

Will you now disappear, like a cat
into the shadows, or one quick strike to end
this game?

My hands react swiftly, intent to your purrs
of delight, your whiskered attention.
They go in, on, beyond
your territory, and I end as swiftly
leaving you reeling
wanting.

A smile of wicked charm pulls from my lips,
with hopes to swoon you.

“Your Move.”





AND MORE..

Shower thoughts



With alarm clock notice a new day comes.
Sleep is heavy, but can be peeled back
Like blankets. The shower awaits and routine
Is the special of the day.

The water pours and the world fades away.
Streams of insight sprays, splatters, into globular scenarios.
Producing painful pelts of temperate conscious,
to rectify delusions of nocturnal grandeur.

Mineral manipulation pours freely, steaming sleepy synapses;
ironing intoxicated wonder into washcloth wisdom.


Soapy Serendipity washed away
drained away in brilliance rivers.
Along byways of body curves
slips intangible introspect;
into the drain of mundane.


AND MORE STILL..


Torn

With origami organs
my body pulses,
as my heart holds
secrets, fold after
fold.


It was an artificial relationship,
Made of unstable material .


I sit,
torn in half

No glue.



I think that is enough for now.

feel free to comment in whatever way you wish, but I will ignore comments souly based on just being an ass.