Brain vomit (1)

i wrote a nice poem today. the computer ate it.

i'm not meant for this worlds of buttons and keys,

i think in bursts of color and smells, tangible things

like oranges or napalm on canvas.

like the the soft musk and warmth of his tawny pearl skin

laced with masculinity pulsing, vein and tendon pulsing;

living marble sinew caught in the bosphorus between boy and man.

tempered by his sweet breath and honeynothings, my resolve is a house of cards

caught and tousled by his gentle tempest

too curious, too late; i'm addicted.

and i wouldn't trade it for any afterlife.

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

brain vomit; please be gracious.


c.

Reviews

[Sidonna]

i like it