Nihil #1

I want to open up my veins
and let it all pour out: I love
you I love you I love you I
love you I love you, beyond
all reasonable doubt. And now
without rhyme or reason this
Infernal Season never ceases
to cease or provide me with
peace or release or release
or release I Am Trapped.

Hang 'er up!

She looks through the cubes;
the world beyond distorted.
The blue satin is soft
on her legs, she feels the
smoothness against the tops
of her toes. The palms of
her hands are enveloped
in pillows. She pouts bare-
-breasted into the cubs. The
gentle light shines softly on
her skin, the beautiful arch,
hairless, glistened by a
microfilm of sweat. Her ruby
red lips pursed together,
occasionally penetrated by
her tongue and then glossed
over. Her auburn hair shines,
framing her mouth as central.
Her breasts heave as they hang
softly, desiring the touch of your
hand. She rocks back and forth
slowly. Eyes closed as she
imagines the sensation. Her
cheeks flush as her breathing
becomes deeper. Firm exhalations.
Her ears burn, her arms feel the
strain and give way. She collapses
into the cool satin. It soon absorbs
her heat - and her discomfort. Her
behind is held up, on display. The
juices trickle down her legs. She
wants you. She Wants You.

Ad then she sits up, and
without a word she leaves.
Her shift is over.

Tomorrow's Dialogue

There we sit, unfolding
on the cusp of greatness.
Sat as though lilacs,
glistening with the dew
of yesterday's showers.

Your eyes gleam under
the sunlight, gentle
reflections dance.
Iris and her pupil make
a lovely couple.

Your hair is like strands
of Gold, here devoid of
colour but still retaining
their lustre, soft and gentle
in the winds of change.

In the distance a truck pulls
away. You take a sip of
coffee; exhaling the ghosts
of yesterday's thoughts and
tomorrow's dialogue.

For this conversation merely
skirts around the issues;
that familiar tet-a-tet, the
prelude before the deluge,
a neccessary introduction.

For now we cannot say
what we desire, "saving it
for next time" we retire - A
painful adieu, if only I could
spend more time with you!

A Daffodil

I have an image in my mind;
A Daffodil blowing gently
in the afternoon breeze.

The Daffodil is embedded
in rocks, grey and black,
a formidable base.

The base stands at the
foot of a garden, luscious
green grass; watered.

The grass is fresh and the
garden sits itself on the
precipice of a great valley.

The valley was forged by
the mighty river, which
came from the mountains.

And there, lining the pathways,
are endless Daffodils, each
blowing gently in the breeze.