Skip to main content

Performance art

Such a fresh bright morning, full of promise and of joy

Today her steps go lightly, floating through the air

I've never seen her so alive and it warms me through my soul



I kiss her gently, touch her hair then to the shower I go

humming softly, basking in the rain,



As I towel off, still humming to myself, a vision floats through the door

The coy smile is all she's wearing and I'm instantly aroused

by the hand she leads me down the hall

silently obedient my will is hers, she knows



In the bedroom there's a chair, she sits me down and stands before me

Without a word she commands me and I am in my place



"Do you love me?" she asks



"You are the fire that warms my soul"



"Do you love me?" yet again



"Your will is my desire."



A finger placed softly upon my lips, quiet is her wish

with her hand she closes my eyes and I am hers

in total surrender I sit, bound by faith in her



She runs her hand along my cheek,

fingers falling lazily upon my neck sending shivers down my spine

She strokes me there to tease me, she knows I love it so



Her fingers dance across my shoulders back and forth in arcs

The tender touch has flushed me and the burning is complete

My skin's afire, the flames jump back to her



I see, with closed eyes, her sweet aura floating before me

leaning in gentle kisses placed expertly to build my growing desire

In my surrender she is mine and we commune in harmony



She is maestro in this symphony of joy, stroking bliss

her hands touch me up and down

from head to toe all my skin is aroused and she's so infinitely aware



My breathing is so shallow now

I don't know how much more I can take,

I hear her breathing also deliberate and slow



I know how much she loves me

I know how much she cares

I know I want to touch her

but that's not my place this morning

My job is just to sit here and enjoy her roving tongue



Caressing and kissing my skin I'm not sure I'll survive

Suddenly she stops it all and backs away

Her aura is there, it's more distant now but white, intense

I hear her moving and I know, I want to open my eyes but that is not allowed

My mouth hangs open panting, dying for her touch

I can hear her fingers working, her breathing now in grunts

One final gasp is all I hear and to me she brings her essence, her love, my bliss


This is our private performance art,

I am clay and she has sculpted me

Her adoring, phallic art.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Purposes of The Corporation revised

The "Purposes" of a not-for-profit corporation, in our case, The Sweetwater Creative Collective, is a legal statement of the way in which The Collective intends to fulfill its Mission. Our Mission is to help people share their abundance in order to ease suffering. None can deny that we exist within a latticework of suffering; homelessness, addiction and poverty surround us, we're experiencing a suicide and mental health pandemic. The suffering touches everyone in some way, this begs the question, how does one go about easing suffering? Before we're able to address any of these issues individually, we must first ask ourselves, what's the root cause of so much suffering? In a word, dysfunction. The level of suffering is increasing, dysfunctional families have become the norm, the mental health pandemic is fueling ubiquitous self-medication in all stratum of our socioeconomic paradigm. Dysfunction begets dysfunction, how do we fight an onslaught which comes from with...

Diary Note

 My fears are not in my mind, my mind is a slave to my fears. I feel the rebound of my Spiritual highs, this feels like one, the lack of ethanol and caffeine dragging my psyche down. THC up, sitting in the library "listening" to the pressure in my heart, if feels like a web of tensions spreading across my back.  Years ago, when I first started to self-medicate, I was able to let my rational mind, this allowed me to perceive the sensation I was experiencing as a sentient presence which moved as my mind's eye espied it.  unfinished thoughts...

The Port Maitland Declaration

 The Port Maitland Declaration We, the undersigned, On behalf of all parents of draft-age children and all children of draft-age parents, ask the Secretary General of The United Nations to put forth a resolution that no member nation shall take part in armed conflict with anything more technologically advanced than sharp sticks and tin-can walkie-talkies. Love Tomorrow for J-man Weib, The Dude, Gonzo and Jack