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Click herethere is tensed muscle in their night
daring deeds
a healing
viewed from the side
and crying
tilted unaware oafs like me
gawk through slitty
glory holes at imitation
no one is there to knot
then release my craving
satisfy my orders
perhaps the very yellow pages
information is a trickle
it is humiliating how little
we know about being little
craved
then held weeping still
frustrations over a man called master. <br>poet trying to understand. <br>one of his "lame" bdsm poems.
Every time I read it, the meaning has shifted, and every time I thrill to the freshness of perceiving anew the age-old dilemma.
Every time I read it, the meaning has shifted, and every time I thrill to the freshness of perceiving anew the age-old dilemma.
visual ... emotional and a touch creepy. but imaginist in its phrasing.
a good read ...
mlady