I love you.

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Separation Anxiety

Assisted by a puppy's youth, I miss
you, for you fill me with a wagging wish
that crosses miles and hours alike. Dervish-
like I spin circles in your praise and kiss
the face I've learned to yearn for. Puddles then
appear, though call them not tears, when salty
floods hide behind these eyes. It's a faulty
fear that makes forever bereft of men
who transfer lights and love, giving solace
to this singular heart. But dear, I'll tell
thee how the excitement seems so hopeless
when all I want is your familiar smell
intoxicating my senses, caress'd
with your smile that rings me like a bell.

Obscene

Obscene

Sometimes I feel obscene:

indecent. lewd. offensive.

Because I can't go unseen.

Somewhere along the line

I broke the dimmer switch

ripped the dial from the wall

and started to shine.

See,

this little light of mine

has never been so little.

It's obscene because

I refuse to hide it.

I refuse to cover it up.

Because this light is a fire from gods,

a fire called love.

And the love of gods is

indecent, lewd, offensive,

painfully bright,

and hard to ignore.

I'm not a burning bush

because this voice is my own,

but sometimes the words are inspired

and I feel consumed to speak

truths bigger than myself.

Dawning

Dawning

May Erato bless these words:

I am a child of Eos.

A bastard of the morning,

with warm-tinted fingers

I rise from the womb of the horizon.

A herald of the day, I brandish my colors

from mountaintops and flat expanses alike.

I am the settled orange
peeking from the liminal folds of my mother's dress,
standing with a sentry's patience
while pink and purple

ascend the heavenly ladder

to breach Nyx's encompassing grey,

and make way for Hemera in her shifting chiton of blue.

The four stallions of Lord Helios

pull His golden chariot o'er my spinal track,

leading the Helionic parade westward once again;
the consequences of Phaeton's trial continued.

I am sunrise, the final gleaming remembrance

of sword-fire in the east,

my only guide to follow the mourning star,

that last solitary beacon, once fallen,

now fading in the brilliance of the coming light.

Ties

Ties are a temptation
when that windsor wedding of silk 

presents its dimpled cheek
to this discerning eye,
magic abounds.
Why use four-in-hand when one will do
to take the knotted neck and pull –
Pull, pull close enough for lips to touch.
Yeah, there's the temptation:
One kiss? One kiss is not enough.
Make-out for as many minutes
as stripes in today's green and gold lined neckwear.
Are you hot under the collar yet?
Perhaps I can loosen you up,
but
you look so fine I
wouldn't want to ruin the aesthetic.
The philosophers would have us believe
that passion undoes us all,
and had it not been our first date, 

I would have ignited passion
under the pink tie that remained hidden
beneath your sweater vest all night.

I Keep Having Sex Dreams About You

I keep having sex dreams about you
all my secret daylight thoughts sewn together with starlight
you take my virginity and I'm powerless
paralyzed by desire as you kiss my neck
I'm addicted to the nicotine on your breath
left wishing for lucidity so I can caress and pull you to me
but even in my dreams you're the one in control:
I'm just along for the ride,
gasping for breath in your bed, waking alone in mine...
Though I never see your face, I can tell it's you and
I feel the guilt of the obsessed.
In consciousness I feel remorse over the
name my sleeping self screams in orgasm,
because every time I look you in the eye
I feel like you know:
I keep having sex dreams about you.

Well... there goes that. :/