Nostalgia

a normal sunday
headache playing pool
hangover of sleep
or should i say lack thereof?
reaching into my bag of memories
of last night
the night before
and so on
i find treasures of a warmer kind
seeping into my clothes
into my skin
with very little preparation
of resistance

moving pictures
reflecting back at us
i find it difficult to watch
to concentrate
as your hand moves up my leg
slowly
gingerly
full of apprehension
fear of rejection
only pure acceptance
as i fight to breathe
stifling a cry
begging silently
with only my eyes to guide you

swirling in myriads
the picture changes
my mind invents new wheels to spin
a dreamstate
hands inside myself
pulling my soul from my heart
ripping every part of innocence
out of me
quilting it patch by patch
tasting sanguinary rivulets
raining inside me
pouring outside me
a round of hail pounding my body
losing control

control me
as the scene's backdrop changes
pillows
comforters
you
panted breathing, desperate glances
and suddenly a rush of force
hurricanes
surging into the form of fingers
the form of bosch-ridden bodies
creating a mural of broken sex
divided anatomy
conquered libidos
fused souls
easy to pass off as art
a picasso or a tornado
so many visions
none so much as real as you
fighting yourself
watching
wanting
withholding
waterfalls splashing over my skin
nothing closer to my flesh than the blade
your cries only make me smile more
that evil smile
you cannot resist
and again by the simple application
of pressure
i scream
your finger reaches into my brain
as it tickles
pushes, persuades itself to please me
it isn't difficult
only joined by more of its friends
all taunting me
wanting me
having me

visions for the weak-kneed
i have
praying those knees will hit the floor
a perfect angle
for surprises
balloons and parties and you
the air hushed and still
and then a thrust
cathedral feelings
obsequious screams
i know you have become me

not just in flesh
not just in body
but from the encompassing of the universe
the baited fire ablaze
between my legs
instantaneous upheaval
as quickly as it came
it violated and seduced me
mythology of storms could not express me better
than the look i -stole- from you

giddy
a schoolgirl without panties
the curve of my coaxing breasts
inhaling the sun of this sunday afternoon
knowing that your hands
would recreate me if they could
until then
i will have to create the mold
of my body, licentious
penniless without your blanketing sex
inside me.