Tag Archives: Infatuation

Mispelled Pleasure

You may not be in love
But you’re hypnotised
Hooked the moment your eyes met my waist

The roll of my hips
The softness of my bottom lip, the flick of the top
The weight of my legs

You fell under my spell
And I fell for the feel of your hands and touch of your skin
The rise of your chest and the grunt of your breath
As my leg hung mid-air
I realised I could not control this spell
And the curse of Want that was to follow

All control was lost and I began to fall for my own spell

I began to beg
For my leg to wrap around your waist
To feel your lips on my neck
I became weak in ecstasy all because of you

All in want of you.

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Insects of Lust

I sit up, surrounded by oceans of lime green grass.

Looking to my left

Looking to my right

… There is no need to turn back, for all that lies there is my past


A lady bug hangs onto a stray eye-lash

I fear to close my eyes in case it may die


So I keep my eyes wide

Awake to the point I could have been a spirit, for I was sure I had died.


Before my eyes I see her transform into a beautiful firefly, that is busy looking for swarm


I chase this bit of light with all my might

razor-sharp blades cut at my ankles

But I did not lose the light and for that I am thankful


And yet, the more I follow, the more the world becomes a fright


Then over the cliff, my dear light goes, my precious light…

Do I stay or do i go?

I ask myself this question

And yet head down I go, into the darkness


Where I seem to have lost my light.

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Anime Flowers

Sweet as can be

A powder pink entity

Shines immensely and innocently


But in her walk you see the gaiety – the dangerous cheekiness, the cause of so many people’s insanity


Her smile grazes your cheek

Her laugh makes you lose sleep


So sweet – she begins to blacken your teeth.

They fall out.

You weep.


But to her, it was never that deep…

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Drunken Scales

As I search for astrological meanings
All they seem to do is point towards you
My yearning for you increases like the moon does to the Earth’s tides
I endeavour to only be swallowed up by your waves and fluctuations
They give me so much satisfaction

I wish for you to feel all of me
Even if others feel like you waste me
I know the true power of your touch and disregard for my aesthetical beauty
You want to get to the core of me
The true lucid being that leaves many drunk with desire and others disgusted at their on inability to sate their lusts

And so I yearn for your touch
Like wine poured into the hands of a connoisseur
You do not use style to drink me
Rather you go straight to the wine bags that hold me and taste me pure and whole and undoubtedly

As my aroma swishes through your mouth and you spit me out
Many take your disregard for disdain
But only you know the true value of my tasteful fame

The moon watches and she observes:
A famous wine that you choose to consume in private to taste her true flavour
Enamoured and inebriated on her taste

A secret far from the eyes of preying consumers
You did not know the true meaning of waste
Rather you do not make haste, just as the sun and the moon
Everything has their time and place.

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The Loves: Part Two

Diagnosis 3

The kind of love that sucks and drains you

Like a vampire after your blood.

Consumed in a venus fly-trap.

Your love seeps out of your fingertips.

Your eyes

Your lips

Even as the very breath leaves you

The love leaves too


A driving force on its own

Creating on its own.

Creating and destroying powerful bonds across the universe.


Licking at your legs like the fire of hell once it leaves you.

So-o good


Love soo good it feels like a sin worthy of committing


Starving yourself of food and water

In hopes this love will sustain you

Though it controls you


You relinquish all power to it the moment you realised it flowed through you


This love is like a spirit


Like a Siren


Calling the possessor of this love to their death

Leading them into the Abyss

Into the den of the wolf, created for their death



Diagnosis 4

The love as delicate and as beautiful as a rose made of ice

glistening with vulnerability and genteelity.


Yet the ice proves to be diamonds.

The hardest rock known to the common man

Only manipulated by high raging temperatures.

Much like when we make love.


Our Blood boiling like lava

As if to create a diamond then and there

Deep within us


Burning too hot, forming too hard and fast

Creating a beautiful hardness within us

for fear of a beauty like that will never consume us again


Hard as a rock

As beautiful as a diamond

Yet still so cold, once all the lava and fervour is gone.


Left feeling alone and abandoned

Like a floating poler icecap

Isolated from the rest of its property.

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The Loves: Part One

Diagnosis 1

The Love that we love to lust for

That is not truly for us.


As careless and carefree as the wind, yet has the ability to fertilise unknowingly and oh so naturally.


Not for me

Not for you

Not for us.

It belongs to no one and seeks to travel the world of pleasure; simply for experience rather than gain

For the taste, despite their insatiable hunger


This love that is greedy and doesn’t stop wanting your worship

The intensity is equally as aloof as it is clingy

All consuming, like the sea above our heads

Drowning, yet simultaneously swimming towards this treasure chest; of gold and riches unknown

Never quite reaching it

Never quite grasping it


But the hope and idea of it keeps us swimming

Treasures that will never truly be ours

This is that type love.


Diagnosis 2

This dangerous love.

A one-sided love.

A victim and the criminal love.

Taking advantage and the crying damsel in distress

The Beast raped Beauty in sleep, mentally, but Disney forgets that part of the story

That Beauty – in all of her blissful and willing ignorance – became a slave to beast

To this abusive love

Of the Injured and Insecure; constantly breaking the beautiful, passionate and innocent

All she has is you and your abuse to look to, hoping one day that you will gain humanity


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Haven in the Dirt

I crave your addictive touch

Who would have thought weaning myself off of you would have proved so rough

My back arches in readiness when I think of your name

Imagining what it would be like to call out your name

Yet it’s more than just the touch…

It’s the journey I should be writing of

The journey of the unloved and forgotten that found a haven in somewhere derilect and non forgiving

We are not too familiar in our touch but that’s because our senses are heightened

Over affection is an unnecessary token

For when it comes to it, our passion can smother

Any repression or aggression that the world may reap

It’s always with solace our parts meet

The secret smiles and the little squeezes

Soon become virile and passion ridden bodies, ready to explode with evidence of the true nature of our freak

These feelings, this freak.

Unbeknown before you met me.

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