Flush of spring

Heat seeps into my bones and imagine it to be the heat of your body

Your words send electric tingles down my spine and I imagine this as your touch

We are a thing of the mind, desiring the taste of each other’s body

I would hear your voice that I may know the deftness of your tongue.

At all times, in all places, in every imagining, I want you. I promise, you’ll be mine, be treasured and will never be bored.


I’m tired of this pointless rut carried out in words.  This diversion, this flirtation leading to nothing but inflamed thoughts. I’ve spent years in service to the pleasures of the flesh. Easy now to recount, to regale, but without you near what purpose? I’m right back to that jaded point where I am weary of the pleasure centered on cock and cunt. Explore with me the sensation of touch but leave off those. Too easy, too simple.  Explore pain and music, sound and sensation.  Taste, pressure.  Speak of art and philosophy. Weave with me a story.  Ascend past the barrier of flesh into resonant wavelengths.  Dance and sing, give voice to the internal monologue, let me hear your every thought as you think it.  I want more than the pleasure of simple desire. Give me complexity, conundrum and puzzle.