Tumor

Head bowed down,always,the quivered lip
with stains falling down
darkening
on each side of my hips.

Crushing blows repeated
but thankfully for awhile
ecstasy in those moments without
a welcomed refuge in your docile.

"It's what you can bear"
to stand to take.
while in your presence
how my flesh does quake
but yearns
and needs.

Forgiving your deeds
as flaws in design
my want to strong to fight
as all the pains become benign.

Tangled Web

All dialogue has been removed for purpose of protection and anonymity.

Previously...

The spider is such a fascinating and frightening creature.With long legs and a quick temper,the stuff that nightmares are made of.Such hostility and poison in one so capable of the most intricate and beautiful of weaved webs that has inspired artist and scientist alike.

A spider will spend most of its days alone,in the confines of it's own hole and thoughts.Venturing out onto the unsure earth only for food it has captured by design,along with the odd mate now and then.That primal need to procreate present,and to feed....are the rules lived by the wild creatures of this planet.

Food is always as abundant as the unlucky insect to make contact with the web.Once caught,it's fate is instantly sealed.Courtship can be just as deadly,though not so quickly decided upon.There is always the dance of death.Those moves you make when you know he's or she's watching.Such violence in it's sexuality,the persistant displays of showmanship and teasing,if not appreciated or reciprocated,can lead to to one deadly bite that turns would be lovers into mortally wounded enemies.

How like spiders do human interact?With the unspoken thought or held back tongue,the rush and fear of consequence,while enjoying the ferocity of coupling.Though neither courters end up dead,there is a mortal wound inflicted to the heart,in those silent screams of things left unsaid,or wants left to hope.

*************
II

A spider web is extruded from the body,with only one purpose.To trap prey,keeping them on hold until seen fit to take part in their nurishment,taking of their body and insides at whim and want.Filling up and out,then discarding the remains of a life's story never told.

How ironic that one such as myself,so scared of spiders,now finds himself trapped in a web of emotion and sticky string.All the while struggliing to break free,but to no avail.That web cast too strong to resist,and so dangerous to make me yearn for a prisoners release.

And so it spins the most intricate of designs,made of the softest of silks.Patterns and corners given attention to,with one purpose in mind.Survival.To feed and be full,if only to allow a brief respite from the daily needs of body and hunger.

Those soft and gentle fingers,as if made by silk,that caress every inch of my body in the sweet tenderness and need in your touch.I do not respond with screams as I should,for the obvious danger,but with a lover's sigh.That moment of being in the moment only,an erection of nipple as you trace my chest with such learned hands.

The struggle is useless.The web too strongly made just for that one purpose.With every ounce of strength that is fought,more is then lost and then in turn given to the captor.The spider with ease,travels the web to claim it's prize.A predators glare reflected in the eyes of the prey,that fights with all it's being,yet lacking the strength of body to fight back.

And thus is the invited web I seem to have caught myself upon.And though my heart is still strong and wants to break free,it is the want of body that cannot resist it.The inevitable consumation nor consummation,by a spider I'd be gladly consumed by,each and every time I am hollowed.

The Hug

I saw you today,and it had been awhile,longer than I can remember.Nothing had changed,noticeably.That crooked smile,the head trimmed perfectly into a perpetual 5 o'clock shadow,that odd way you speak with a barely noticeable under use of the tongue,the way you innocently stand too close for comfort when in conversation.

And that smile...so full of life and lacking of intention or agenda.Natural.The way you talk as if there is no-one else in the room but who you are talking to.How painfully tired and impossibly lovely you looked today.

We've known each other long,but never as well as we should.Our history that was always a given.How we always try and make up for lost time and absence through our fast and devoted discussions where we block everyone around us out...despite their constant insistence at being let in.

Today we held twice and I was thankful for both.The last one I felt held for too long,and not nearly long enough.I long to do so again,and know it will be so long that I will have forgotten the last.And rightfully so.
In that moment you held me,and held me.And every dream I ever had came to life,while ending simultaneously.

A Sorta Fairytale

To play it safe while tempting unknown dangers
always,at the end of the day
finding that comfort only amongst the arms of strangers.

An aching heart with more rooms than a mansion
furnishing with experience before it's out of date
every many single moment with a sense of passion.
A hidden agenda before my time grows too late.

I find,though briefly,a home in your caress.
My distress suddenly forgotten,if only for that moment
or if lucky,for a few.

Making pretend for real,that each moment will last
and in the tangled clinging I feel,this time might be my always.
My evermore
My future history's past.