… I find it still lurking, that broken fragment at my core. A moralistic demise speckled in broken shards. It is me, an intrinsic scar on my soul. The reflection of my own self belief that can only be bandaged with plasters of lust, not love, kissed with lips of desire, not love… A primal need for a primal scar perhaps…
…but what happens when love comes wrapped in primal kisses. When every bite of carnal sin tastes of ancient love. When every word is a stroke, every syllable is a kiss, every pause… … A thrust of liberated ownership…
… What happens then to the scars of my past, etched within the dark recess of my soul.
On keeps edge a spring breeze dancing through auburn strands of chaos as dawn wakes. Blazen skies igniting over blue horizons white surf kissing day’s promise. Fingers grasping, waves plunging hungrily, mouths searching tide rising lust craving… … gentle blades of grass tickling eyes knowing mouths finding sun ascending bodies descending passion burning losing sense of time within the whirring tides of stars that is Love.
And so woke an envious mind a subtle craving a gentle image grasping at dreams… … the bottle between your hands the glass between your fingers the neck at your lips Your tongue saturated nectar spilling into your mouth and the way your eyes caress her curves seconds before you place the ice cold bottled beer to your lips and she quenches your primal thirst.
A kiss, tender passion filled need as the world twirls as butterflies swirl as you pull me deep within your grasp. Warm lips, wet tongues, tasting, sipping, biting, saliva entwining. Igniting, the imploding need of sacral fires burning, rising, tippy toes, pushing forward, faster, deeper. Two souls alit. Desire, need, lust, fighting to explode, skin a sensory puzzle of excitement, a visual play of energy as the soul becomes the rawest of all erogenous zones, tingling, waking, burning, aching… Kiss me, just fucking kiss me.
It’s about control. My control over you, over external stimuli, it’s about navigating my pleasure zones, taking them cliff edge and jumping, naked, abandoned into an angry sea of lust. Its about power, swinging the kinetic pen- du- lum in favour of me, of you, of me, of you. It’s nature’s force rising within, screaming obscenities into the silent sky. It’s about embracing taboos, painting them across my torso, mapping them across my hip, kissing them deep into my existence. It’s about liberation, those shackles that bind, the ropes that burn, the belt that reddens The hands that restrain… It’s about losing sight and gaining… Sight Being led into temptation and made to feed. To gorge on sin To devour whimsical wishes, its about control… My control in your hands, my power in your fingers My need in your kisses My desire in your strokes My passion burning in your eyes It’s all about trust Power/ trust/ control Yours… Mine… They are the same Its about unity.