murmurs to the left. sweet water on my tongue. tension in jaw and tastebuds. pressure in soles of feet and remembering the music that plays from my phone is the same as that of the crickets. drown the neighbors’ ripple with sound that delights. beauty is protection. my dress gathers between folded legs and i pray on the taste of cinnamon serpents in milky coffee and you, somewhere in my mind, swimming toward my heavy, damp breasts, and i breathe bright grey stratus and fluffy white cumulus and pure blue a hawk flies through. i remember you never left me. i only looked elsewhere for a third of a century which, in the grand scheme, is nothing i cannot remedy with a flowered silk slip and three sticks of incense and every color my heart rests her fingers in. you curve through my breath lke thick spicy smoke and rain falls on my shoulderblades, washing any trace of doubt from the atomic structure of consciousness called I AM.
i am yours. ink spreads through a raindrop and i want to keep writing – but you urge me to the studio with cool water.
+++
your eyes between my thighs
your lips an inch from mine
whispering filth into my glistening electricity
++
I’m tired of wanting you
tired of waiting and waiting and waiting
what’s wrong with me? For being so pretty
you’d think by now
I’d have figured something
into existence
ha
the haze again
the gaze again
the mirror betrays
again again
damn I miss you tonight
your fingers linger between my lips and I wish
this feeling would never lift
alone in the dark I imagine you’re real
so one day
maybe
you will be here with me
so embarrassing the way I dream and yet
it always has been
what is there to hide from?
how else will you find me but by my signature koans (moans) and signature sighs and signature silk slips and lips that can’t stop biting themselves and I slip slip slip into the mystery again
don’t you want to come with me, darling?
what is this game we are playing?
they say hide and seek but
I feel you always.
+++
I will fill myself with the feeling of you until you arrive in my embrace and then I will never let go of you ever. I will love you forever.
+++
What do I WANT to fill the tension with?
This is the erotic game
I get to choose the inputs
Being here on earth is being suspended floating tethered between realms
I don’t have to resist
Don’t have to fill the tension with more tension
I can fill it with openness and pleasure and juicy delicious gushing aliveness
It’s okay to let go of the fight
It’s okay to love. To smile. To be here swimming in it
Let go of control and it’s all coming
+++
The best part about not being with a man is that I realize all of the feeling is coming from my own erotic nature. My imagination. My desire. My art. My atmosphere. My aesthetic. My beauty. My worship. My prayer. My devotion. My goddess.
+++
The less time I spend on social media getting subtle validation and breadcrumbs of attention, the more deeply attuned I am to my creative pulse, my erotic pulse, my desire, my senses, my able to feel things into being.
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