Release

The body is a prison.
The door slammed shut,
The key out of reach.
You need and you need.
Held breath; bit lip.
Skin sweat; his grip
His hold. On you. —Please.

—Get on your knees.

The universe swirls around
A black hole we will never know.
What hole, what void
Is the gravity into which
You are always falling?
What darkness now surrounds you? Takes from you your sight?
What tremor? What pulse?
There in your chest
There between your legs—
The swell of the tide of you
Rising up to meet your need.

In the dark, you plead
—Touch me.
But you only hear him breathe.
In the dark you beg
—Take me.
And he’s close but not enough.
In the dark you sigh
—I need it.
And he throws you hard into the bed and
Binds you to the bedposts and
Runs a hand along your thigh.

You are all potential energy
You are every stellar body’s urgent gravity
You are whatever is beyond an event horizon we cannot hope to see
You are every hole that needs filling endlessly
Wet and hot and roiling like the boundless galactic sea.
His hand is at your knee.
HIs hand is moving slowly,
Up and between.
You are dripping with need.
Your chest heaves—you can barely breathe.
—Please. Please.
His finger slips into your slick slit
He presses, briefly, hard, into your clit
And before you can breathe —Yes—
He once again recedes.

Alone. Again.
A low moan. —Noooo…
On your own.
Not your own. His own.
Owns your wet.
Owns your want.
Owns your naked writhing need.
You plead. —Pleeeeease.
You sigh. You clench your thighs.
You are the want that never dies,
What no little death can ever kill:
The need to be filled and filled and filled.
You beg for the swell of his cock in your mouth
You beg for the tongue he could press to your lips.
You beg for the frenzied grip of his hands.
You make any number of useless demands.
You tell him every dirty shameful thing
You are only always and ever more.
You tell him you will be his whore.
Anything to feel it.
The form and pressure
Your throbbing clit.
You quake for lips and hands and dick.
He moves quick. You grunt:
He slides his tongue over your dripping cunt.
You thrust, he grasps.
Your tits, your ass.
His fingers slip into your warmth,
You shake and writhe,
You beg for more.
He presses hard and up and in
You are the rising tide within.
You yearn for hard and thick and fast
You’re only oh and fuck and more and yes.
So close so close so close so close—
At last.

And then he’s gone again—a void.
Your panting breath.
Your heart’s mad pace.
He runs his hand across your face
—Look at the fucking mess you made.

And every constellation of your passion
Collapses backward in your soaking lap.
You strain against the ties that bind
Lost in the back of a one-track mind
—Please, let me touch it.
—Please, I need to come.
—Please, I am every dying nebula’s last unexploded sun.
He leans in close; his voice is like the voice in your own head;
He takes one nipple hard between his finger and his thumb:
—You’ll get what you want,
When and if I say I’m done.

And so nothing ends but it finishes this way:
Between panting breaths
A rumbling begins.
Your heart knows before your
head does, quickens—
The dark center of your wanting slickens.
You can barely think or say scream
The thing that has no form or logic
Beyond the planes of geometry that
Collide in your body:
—No, no, please it’s too much.
—Yes, yes, please, I want it all.
And then that thunder exceeds your horizon
You close your eyes and surely die in
Whatever lies beyond your body’s always-storming sky.

Sheets gripped, ripped to strips.
Ropes strained, chains that bind you to a pain that is not pain.
A whimper, a whimper, a moan, a groan,
A swift-hissed yes; a long, slow no.
Hips thrust into the tremor though yet unknown,
Whether to push what overwhelms away
Or to welcome what obliterates home.
It rumbles, madly,
Your will crumbles, badly,
You forget the date, your name, and where you’re from.
And then from somewhere to your left he snaps,
—Don’t you fucking dare cum.

Time spirals out, no clock can tick
The seconds of what’s building in your clit.
You might never cum again and yet
You might at any moment
Fall off this edge into a sea of what
Seeps from between your legs.
He speaks: —Beg for it.
He takes all joy, all pain, all swelling tide, all hope away.
—Please. Please. I am an earthquake’s first and deepest quake.
—Please. Please. I am the drought no river’s yearly flood could ever slake.
—Please. Please. I am a forest fire no autumn rain could ever quench.
—Please. Please. I am what every mouth and hand yet yearns to touch.
—Please. Please. I am all grasp and moan and thrust and suck.
—Please. Please. I am, I am, I am, oh god, oh yes, oh fuck.
The wave is sure to crash,
The wave recedes again.
Wounded by every pleasure.
Euphoric with every pain.
Momentum, inertia.
Stasis, desertion.
At once there is a cataclysm between your legs,
And a void that makes you say all of the worst things you can name—

If he’ll only set you free.
If he’ll only let you give in to every instinct’s basest need.

And when the tide at last rises over every widest horizon,
When the fathoms of you quake, reverberate and shake,
When the lightning of you illuminates every shadowed corner of your need,
When you cry and call and moan to be filled with what only flesh can complete,
He leans in close, his voice a whisper, and sets you free:
-Now. Cum for me.