dizzy

she is benediction
she is addicted to thee
she is the root connection
she is connecting with he

here I go and I don't know why
I fell so ceaselessly
could it be he's taking over me...

I'm dancing barefoot
heading for a spin
some strange music
draws me in
makes me come on
like some heroin/e

she is sublimation
she is the essence of thee
she is concentrating on he,
who is chosen by she
here I go and I don't know why
I spin so ceaselessly,
could it be he's taking over me...

[chorus]

she is re-creation
she, intoxicated by thee
she has the slow sensation that
he is levitating with she ...

here I go and I don't know why,
I spin so ceaselessly,
'til I lose my sense of gravity...

[chorus]

(oh god I fell for you ...)
the plot of our life sweats in the dark
like a face the mystery of childbirth, of childhood itself
grave visitations
what is it that calls to us?
why must we pray screaming?
why must not death be redefined?
we shut our eyes we stretch out our arms and whirl on a pane of glass
an afixiation a fix on anything the line of life the limb of a tree
the hands of he and the promise that s/he is blessed among women.

(oh god I fell for you ...)

Do you think she meant "asphyxiation"?

I ache tonight.

It's strange, how the night---the littlest things send me back to that ceaseless spin. At least it is no longer a downward spiral.

I ache tonight. How I crave your voice in my ear, a puff of air, soft hands manipulating my senses---all of them.

I swirl red wine in my glass, it has fine legs. (Not as fine as mine.) I stick my nose in and inhale deeply. It is sweet and rich, like you. Rich as in full you fool. I am no longer full. The words I write echo within me. Like in a vacuum they never fade; they just continue to reverberate.

My mouth tastes like the merlot. And fresh ice cream. I no longer smell like cigarettes, I smell like Calyx and rosemary shampoo. I always imagined you smelled like the ocean, since it was such a part of you; ocean, Tide, and maybe some men's sport deodorant like Right Guard or Gillette. I imagine wrapping my arms around you, late in the afternoon, on the deck or the beach, sliding my hands into the back pockets of your jeans, and pressing my face into your tee shirt and inhaling deeply and hearing your heart beat.

You made me a better person. I felt stronger, smarter... loved. There is such a dearth of soul and spirit around me now. I have to strive much harder to keep from getting pulled down by it. I need so much more. I want so much more. You understood.

The night is so quiet and empty tonight. I look out into the darkness; I seek the stars above my head. There are no wishes to be made.

I just ache.

Addendum:

I was thinking today. The last fantasy I posted, (which isn't done) was about a stranger, and not you. (I might as well keep on addressing you. I had tried to avoid that at the beginning but I keep doing it.) Even my fantasy life mirrors pop-psych culture, as I go out and pick up a total stranger to fuck to try to forget you. ROFL. That really is precious. God help me I wish you could read this.
I do love you so. Peace.

Miss Jackson if you're nasty

There is a new guy at work. He's not teh_hott but he's cute in a bookish way---wire rimmed glasses and not too short, not too long wavy hair. He's a mere boy really. And yes, Mrs.Robinson Sabine is crushing on him a little. Ok, it's more like fantasizing, fine. While I generally lean toward lusting after older men, everyone once in a while I meet a younger man like this, all fresh, firm, and muscular, and think "I'd like to teach him a thing or two." Not that an older man can't be firm and muscular mind you. Unfortunately I never got the chance to touch, (or taste for that matter) so I can't vouch for dear Griffin. I know he was athletic, and the man did love to brag about his prowess in bed to torture me.

Anyway, back to the boy. What gets to me is his voice; he has this wonderfully rich, deep, baritone voice. It reverberates inside me when he talks. And he runs. So we talk about running naturally. I admit I might let on that I am more physically fit in that department than I actually am, but I bet he is exaggerating a tad too. *weg* Suddenly, I am picturing him with no shirt on, all tan and sweaty from a 5 mile run, whispering in my ear in that deep voice, while some of that sweat drips down my own neck, and dips into my cleavage. Oh won't you lick it out sweetness?

Ok, however, I was in the middle of a fantasy about being submissive. Did you like the "I am broken like a wild stallion" line? ROFL. I amuse myself to no end. I think I like doing the smut very abstract and free form, so I am going to do that again.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Where we left off

With one hand you have my wrists clasped above my head.
The other works on the buttons of my blouse.
Back to the wall of your motel room.
Kissing me.
Hard.
A rush of nerves chokes me.
You could hurt me.
Bad hurt me.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

A smile belies serious eyes.
Kind eyes
Warm eyes.

"Do you trust me? You need to trust me."

I close my eyes, part my lips, and press against you, aching for contact.

I trust you.

You believe me.
Oh yes, you do.
Yanking down my jeans
My hands stay where they were
Of their own volition
Push the straps of my bra off my shoulder
No need to unclasp them
Cup, squeeze, roll
I moan
You grip my wrists again
You take me to the bed
On my belly
Your belt buckle jingles
Like Santa
against my back
Oh sweet pressure
I raise my hips
Grind to feel your dick between my legs
My folds
You push me back down.

"Not yet. Patience darling, I'm calling the shots here."

*************
Sorry kids, but I must go get sleep now. Despite my own throb, *snort*