With That Moon Language
Everyone you see, you say to them,
Of course you do not do this out loud;
Someone would call the cops.
Still though, think about this,
This great pull in us
Why not become the one
Who lives with a full moon in each eye
That is always saying,
With that sweet moon
What every other eye in this world
Is dying to
A Beauty you are out and within
I have an insatiable desire to write poetry on your skin
Your body my canvas feel my gentle brush
Writing orgasms with my erotic touch
Cinnamon lips I love your tone
Soft and silky to the bone
Finding words..be my guide
As we connect I come inside
Filling each other..there’s no strain
Steady my thoughts I must maintain
Watching my penmanship using a steady stroke
I start hallucinating from my mental smoke
Sends me into a frenzied flow
I’ll find my pace..go on a roll
My words soak in as you taste
My emotions invade your inner space
From your toes up to your eyes
Writing Haikus between your thighs
Poetry on your body every inch
You start writhing from my Scorpion pinch
Sinfully venomous my words forever sink
Into your skin my poetic tattoo ink
As you lay naked I visually feast
Every line of your body a masterpiece..
See, heres the cool thing about me,
No one really listens. They hear what they want to, and hear what they have to, but never dare ask questions about things i dont speak of.
It seems everyone is afraid of the truth, since i speak it so often, they can’t imagine how rough the actual truth is.
it disgusts me. I love the truth, i seek the truth,and if there is no truth i imagine the answer.
So, explain to me, when there is some one there to answer all your questions and doubts, why wouldn’t you ask?
Which is then taken to the side of, maybe there are no questions. but if there aren’t any questions then what is the point of speaking with me?
If i dont find someone intriguing i won’t spend my time trying to know them. Then why waste your fucking time?
Thats all i want to know.
If you have questions, ask them.
if you’re too much of a pussy to, then get the fuck out.
Early Morning Fantasy #1
by Cheyenne Majors
that wonderful time
where you aren't really awake
but you know you aren't dreaming anymore
where everything's a bit blurred
and only the important things are
that on this morning
the blinds are closed or open
i can't tell
everything's a haze
the cat's probably asleep by our feet
the sheets might be orange
they might be red
but your eyes
they're crystal clear
that wonderful light green
so different from the seas of brown i'm used to
then that little smirk
that's always on your face
those collar bones
that in this moment
the little infinity signs
i've traced a thousand times
tattooed onto your chest
the smirk is only a smile
those eyes are only crystal clear
because they're staring right into my eyes
and those lips are mine for the taking
that this morning
that is lasts forever
that it will happen one day
it's times like these
that i imagine
all the goddamn time.