The flesh is a mere gateway. A doorway to pleasure. A medium by which worship and devotion are made tangible. A lash of the whip binds the mind to the flesh, that lance of pain bled exctasy binds mind to mind. A moment forever frozen in memory. The tracing of a scar line evoking love and care, devotion and pleasure. All from a simple mark of flesh. Flesh is a mere gateway, but a gateway to the mind, eternal.
I have a Short story Pending Review on Amazon:
Home: A Pel and Sara Story
Author: Anthony Glenn
Yes, that is my name. It was available on this site for free some time ago but has been taken down to comply to Amazon’s rules. If you enjoyed reading it I hope you will purchase it and leave a review. Or if you haven’t read it and enjoy my writing in general you may want to consider this story.
I have become agitated, chafing at the restrictions of my world. The knowledge that you are out there and not in my arms. That I won’t feel your lips at the end of my day. That we won’t be going for a walk. That we won’t dance to a tune we hum. And all the other things we’ve talked of. It’s hard, it’s difficult but I’m starting to see that without your voice, your smile, the touch of your hands each day. Each day will get harder. I need you in my life, all the way in, right to the heart of me.
It’s simple and complicated. I love you Goddess of my Heart.
Face this wild abandon
this hedonistic pledge
this drifting cloud round red
us and dripping sweat
kneel and be mastered as you’ve mastered my heart
playing little games
but it all comes down to us
little pleasure games
bound up in lust
something lurking in the back
this frozen kiss
lips only ever for you
I’m only ever for you
There is a specific moment that comes in any circumstance when every thing can change. The art is in both recognizing those moments and in knowing what direction to jump. I’ve made some incorrect choices, and failed to recognize some as the moment to act. But I like to think I know what I’m doing now and am more willing to make the jump should necessity exist. So now I can make all new mistakes instead of the ones I now know how to deal with.
This is a piece called heart gives voice, I wrote it in November of last year. I’m putting it here because I think that you have found me Goddess of my Heart, my Cha’Trez
What does it say of my life, that a slip of the tongue is the most disastrous thing to befall me. So safe have I become that the wrong words pave the way to heartache. When in my youth, ill-conceived action would have led to blood, to loss of fortune and life. And now in my safety, I look back on perilous times and see them as good.
The triumph of survival rings heavy then fades. The soft blandishments of current circumstance pale next to the risks of youth. These soft courtesies, small steps, enticements to a love longed for, all seem foolish now. In youth, I would have taken and ravished her.
Strength and fury, the hotness of passion welling up from the dark steps to fill sky with actinic display. But now, years past beyond the reckless of youth, speak words of poetry and hope she will want what I am now. Though knowing, this soft copy of who I was, this faded version of warrior poet, so pale. So wan with grief and times passage, who could want this.
I feel an old man now, though I know only middling years. I sit in my tower, surrounded by books and comfort, fortune frittered away. I write missives to you and hurt full, bursting, overflow as in youth remember. I wait, amidst silence, hoping that this time… This time you’ll find me.
want you by my side
sitting in booths
hand under dress
Watching you fighting to not gasp
to not moan
right to the edge
I lick my fingers
savoring the taste of you
hand in hand to the bathroom
I need you to cum. Will you cum for me?
The second hand rasps by, *shoosh, click. shoosh, click.* Time passing without your hands on my back, without the soft scrape of nails causing shudders. The hot wet of your tongue against my spine.
The minute hand clacks into place.
Shocking from the dream of you
The heat shimmers
Sundrenched waves rising from melting asphalt
Anger flares created and quenched
Like a match in near vacuum
The city sleeps as night
Cough syrup slow
Oppressive beat of sun gives way
To the warm embrace of night
A sauna composed of sky and moon and you