Month: July 2018

Nightmares are also dreams, part 6: Tara

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The heat void left by Pel getting up rouses me from my barely remembered dream of laying next to a fire. I snuggle into his spot. Still warm from him and close to Sara. I feel the soft muscle of Sara’s arm pull me to her, sliding me across silk to nestle close enough to feel her warm breathing tickle my still closed eyelids. I feel her feather touch. Soft fingers spread like a fan, drawing circles around my breast. My eyes open, awake now, and find the deep green of shaded forest staring into mine. I’ve seen this look before, her eyes flashing so deeply with desire they are practically black.

I lean in and devour her soft lips with mine, head tilted to the left. Pressure building to take more of her into my mouth. Tongue sliding over tongue, soft and fierce, fighting for more and more until I feel her hand squeezing and pulling my tit. I break awake, gasping for air. Gobbling breath. Her hand pulses like a heartbeat. I find myself on my back gasping, not sure how I changed positions.

Her nails graze against me sending shivers down spine and her mouth closes over my throat. Lightly biting down, claiming me as hers, her kill. I shudder needing more but she moves so slowly. Lips press their need against my chest and I gasp in surprise when her teeth close over my nipple right as her hand flicks my clit.

I fade out, almost to float, but her fingers plunging inside me shakes me loose. I panic, starting to struggle against her and my eyes fly open.

From the doorway, Pel is watching us. He’s holding two mugs in his hands, not drinking from either. He seems content to watch us forever.

I relax shocked back to reality. My girlfriend and my Sir. I’m safe and that thought gets blasted out of my head. Sara is biting and nibbling and her hand pulses inside me fingers splayed and caressing inside finding spots I never knew were there.

I fall into sensation, eyes closed against any distraction. Each time I feel teeth I whimper as a thumb drags slowly against my clit.

My lungs expand and contract, rough breathe spilling into the air, my body starts shuddering, and then soft waves of gold hammer through and out of me, again and again riding the edge of orgasm.

It’s too much and I can’t think. Lost in the float…

Some minutes later I hear water turning off, when did that happen? Sara is drinking from a cup and offers one to me.

I take the proffered gift and find it contains drinking chocolate. Pel made this…there is cayenne in it. Sara prefers to mix it with cream.

It is delicious but not what I want. I put the mug down on the nightstand with a metallic click.

I burrow beneath the covers and find the prize I’m looking for. The soft blonde sweetness of Sara. It smells of musk and vanilla with a hint of Pel from last night. I play the game Pel taught me. I lick a long slow A against the pussy lips of my…wife.

I’ll say yes. The last time they asked, I wasn’t ready. But yes, they are mine. I won’t give them up. But… Later. Now I need more and the soft moans of Sara whisper our rightness.

The only canvas I have

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Only faint syllables flow silk across eardrums
Vibrating words of pleasure and pain
Tremulous touch
Uncertain
Yearning
Caress and imprint memories
Still voice raises
Speaking truths hands fear to impart
When only words can be said
They take the place of lips pressed lightly
And so are seen as inadequate
Hearing only definition and not the whisper
Of soon
You’ll have more than this

Why I cry, sometimes for no evident reason

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There is something in me that always wants more. More time with someone I like. More conversations, more touch, more laughter. More falling in love, hopefully together. And I think I understand why now.

As a child, I was alone. Surrounded by siblings old enough or young enough to be distant but still present. I would ride my bike for hours out in the heat. Alone. I would ride down alleyways discovering petty secrets. I would ride for miles down back streets in the quiet empty of the asphalt heat ocean. I would come back home and gulp down water and read some book meant for adults, having long since out read the local library of children’s offerings. The crackle of the polyurethane dust jacket and the silent turning of pages. Days and days left alone, because I didn’t seem to need attention, and others did.

I grew up filling this vast uncharted lonely expanse with temporary friends, ideas, and intense desire for a connection. But, I was both shy and quick witted, stung by others comments I would carve out their hearts with a sharp tongue and feel flushed with guilt and triumph. And I watched as others who seemed normal to me found connections and were seemingly happy. It looked so easy for them. Like breathing.

I turned to computers and twisted even further inward. My family emphasized practicality and money. I lost myself. And by the time I surfaced, I was successful and faceless. People knowing me was dangerous so no one did. Certainly not my family. And there was no one else. Until Morgan shattered my world. And everything changed. Like waking from a coma to find the world had moved on. Briefly, through, seemingly no action I took other than saying yes at the right moment, I was whole. She filled me in ways I’m still aching from.

Because well, you can read about Morgan on your own.

And I was so numb after, I just didn’t notice. But I started waking up almost four years ago. And that intense need for connection drives me. I fall in love. It’s not attachment. I’m not a baby bird. I just see people and they are beautiful. How can I not love them? I’m learning to suppress it but love always bursts out. Connection. More. An intense need to have them see themselves how I see them. To help them.

I don’t get people who don’t know if they have ever felt love. There are people who I would shift the world for, if I could.

But I think they see that empty vastness inside me. I understand how it’s too much. No one can fill it. No single person. But you wouldn’t be. I have friends, fellow poets and writers. Sometimes the vast empty swallows me and I seem like I’m way too much too soon. I’m sorry for that.

And a part of me says, “stay, just stay.” and another part whose all too familiar, knows that you’ll go, and another part would do much to be proven wrong and fill the vast empty with something other than echos.

Dogs barking, can’t sleep without umbrella

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Sitting awake meaning to sleep
But I just sit here eyes closed
Thinking about tomorrow
Anticipation insomnia
Trepidation too
But mostly I can’t sleep when I have things to say
Nonsense things
Pointless things
Cute things
Sexy things
Quiet things
Music things
Just things
It all pents up
Flowing out in this nervous energy
Keeps me awake
Keeps my mind churning
Over and over
Not exactly the best trait
To sometimes feel like you’re walking on spiky rocks
Needing to talk
And all that comes out is
“hey, 😁, good morning!”
Weirdo
Goofy Sir
Serious and happy
This is what I mean when I say
“I’m too much”
Too many things
Stupid things like
“I like you.” said too much
Words bubble out of my effervescent heart
Bypassing thought
It’s no wonder nothing lasts
Who could stand up to the onslaught of my feelings
And now we reach the heart of it
Fear
An anxiety attack that builds slowly
Reading, games, TV, kitties
Anything to not think
To not word vomit my heart out
Yet
That’s all that works
Other than being held

Small trace of fingertips on leg

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I look at your picked image
And think
Don’t want to bother you
Think
I have nothing to say but
How are you today?
Think
Not today
Hard limit
Most hard limits, easy
This one’s hard
But I don’t have anything to say
Not really
Can’t get you out of my mouth
The touch of skin
Imprinting into my mind
Memories etching themselves into nerve endings
But hard limits
Gotta follow them all
So I sit and write
And like a acid flashback
I’m right back there
Uncomfortable in my seat
Thankfully going numb
Your head on my shoulder
Arm around you
Fingers Tracing desire
Idle
Without any pattern but the moment
The feel of your skin
Feeling awkward
Wanting to turn your attention away
To your lips
To get good at this when glasses get in the way
Rushing because we want that instant
Intense
Memory
Leaves me dreaming
Waking
Looking at your picked image
Wanting to say hello
But hard limits

Thoughts after,

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So I have this thing, and I’m sure I’m not alone, or maybe I am but there is this thing that my brain starts to do after a date or really when anything good happens. My brain starts to analyze. And I say my brain and distance myself because I am consciously saying to myself, “don’t do this. I guarantee that you are misreading this. Stop, please stop.” But does it stop? No it does not. It will go over every word, every gesture, every touch and just rip it apart looking for some hidden meaning and, if it can’t find one, starts to whisper things that I think, that I hope is bullshit. But that’s the trap, right? They sound almost true. And in sounding almost true, we think….maybe. And it will start small and by the end you are crippled with self doubt.

But I digress, maybe sleep will help.

I feel relaxed for the first time in a while. That has to be a good result. Let’s hope for more, because that’s what I do.

Dusk falls and he wakes

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Slip into the past
Drill bit eyes
Flint shaped soul
Softened by blood
Made whole by a sacrifice of self
Wake clean
Only to get dirty
But this dirty makes me free
No strings
No stress
Make things better by force of will
Touch me to wake me
Memories can’t forsake me
Remember you forever
A form of immortality
Until I lack mobility
But still I spin this story of me
Hoping for an us
And maybe an extended we
But that’s me
Always reaching for the stars
When I’ve yet to leave the earth
Last trip to anxiety
Brush lips, hands held so high
You see
Hope to live up to the hype
Or higher
I hope to deliver
For these few hours
You’re mine
Be explicit
I’m a granter of desire
But bolder in verse than in person
But shake the poet loose
I’ll trace poems across skin
Don’t believe in sin

Train Whistle

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So I have two simultaneous tracks of thoughts running right now and they go like this
Shouts, “Fuck!”

But with different inflections
On the one hand the job I thought I had is vanishing faster than sand in a windstorm. I might as well be standing on the tarmac as it goes flying by while the pilot Shouts, “No really, I have nothing to hide.” Which, as we all know is code for, I have things to hide. And the more it’s repeated, the more we know that the thing you’re hiding is deep and dark.

And on the other hand, I’m excited and anticipatory but apprehensive too. Because, I know it’ll go OK but I also know that I tend to go silent when I’m nervous and when there’s nothing to lose, I’m on top of the world but then I start thinking, and that churn begins. That overthinking and the litany of failure and all my friends saying that’s great but I don’t want you to get hurt and I smile and say I understand when I just want to say too late.

But
It’ll be fine right?
My life isn’t a pointless series of days where people I love leave me and I’m way too much for anyone, everyone else. My dad’s fine and it’s probably not cancer and even though he’s gotten more conservative than sane Republicans, I’m not ready to lose him.

Did I say 2 tracks?
I must have lost count.

Nightmares are also dreams, part 5

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Waking before the dawn can make the nights feel shorter. But those quiet hours before sunrise always feel like a gift. Getting up and making coffee. Watching Tara snuggle into the warm spot I just vacated. Watching Sara pull Tara to her. These unconscious movements echoed in sleepy waking smiles and soft kisses.

Sara moves her hands under the cover, the arch of Tara’s back showing the results of her touch. I watch their kisses and caresses for a minute. Drinking in their lust and love for each other. It leaps my heart to see my girls happy and safe.

I softly walk to the nightstand and place a insulated mug of coffee for Sara and a twin of that mug with hot cocoa for Tara onto the night stand. I know Sara hears me but her mouth is otherwise occupied with Tara’s. I walk to the shower and close the door softly. The heat of the water slams into me. Sluicing away that gritty tightness of my skin. Feeling the heat soothe away the pains of a hard life gone soft.

I take my time. Lathering with lemon peppermint soap, the smell evoking sun and winter chill. When the heat is almost dizzying, I turn off the water. The steam curls in the eddies of the air conditioner.

Jen texts, All is ready.

So, the project Girls day out is a go. Jen will pick up Tara in 2 hours and they will go shopping. Stereotypes aside, Tara likes spending time with Jen and anytime she can be out in the world and feel safe is to be encouraged. Plus, I need some time with my wife. I never appreciated the freedom we had until it was curtailed.

I have described to Sara the utterly depraved acts of love I was going to visit upon her body today. She is completely psyched up for pain and torture.

So, of course, we’ll be going in a different direction.

I hear through the hot mist, the warbling tea kettle cry of Tara as she screams her orgasms through the bedroom. I smile dark and bright. My girls.

It should be a good day.