I bleed always
Translucent and odourless, it flows cold
Flavourless and…. pointless?
No.
Not pointless.
Wrong word.
The grief of distant stars…
…no longer there…
…the light reaching us too late.
Can you be saved?
Do you need?
Do you want?
Touch your fingers
Eyelash-kiss my moist cheeks again…
As you snore in my arms, the vibrations run through me like the tremors of an earthquake; the ripples spreading out like stones hurled into a pond.
Your sonorous baritone makes my atoms dance.
I see my reflection in your eyes and I’m always dying. Always falling to my knees clutching my chest or covering a wound on my neck. Always clinging to life inside that perfect circle of black.
Hide me under a quilt so I can bury my tongue between your legs, picking hairs out of my teeth. I’ll wet my broken lips against your sex, nodding my head…
slowly….
slowly…..
slowly….
…agreeing with everything you say. Hide me under the sheets, leave me to nest between your thighs and not come out until the spring.
*******
I put down my cup of tea on the table and pretend to scratch my nose; actually, I’m sniffing my fingers. I’m wearing her black thong under my skinny jeans, so my cock is half squashed and half rubbed raw against the zip fly. My hair is filled with her shampoo. My teeth glisten with her toothpaste.
*
The question is asked
__ ___ ____ ____ ______ _____?
and I reply;
Excuse the language, mother…
…but I fucking love her.
jimmi campkin 
I fucking love this entry.
Thank you Kindra 🙂 Your book of poetry has kept me going through a few long evenings and train journeys recently.
You’re welcome. And that is lovely! I’m so happy to know that.Thank you, Jimmi.
Completely caught up
In this. The gorgeous photography too.
Thank you 🙂 I’m really glad you enjoyed this one.
Your photos are magnificent (as is your verse). There’s something austere and celestial here—a sense of naked reverence and awe. A marvelous eye you have.
Thank you very much 🙂 I always take my photographs alone, and I hope to capture some of that self-imposed solitude in every frame. Ultimately, I’m trying to find Mark Rothko’s “pockets of silence” in every shot…. a tall order, but worth trying. Thank you again for your kind words.
What you’d described doesn’t sound like love at all, in fact, i think love should be the exact opposite of what you’d described here, great photos by the way!!!
I respectfully disagree on your first point. But I thank you very kindly for your comments on my photos 🙂
This is wonderful. Every word from first to the last is engaging! Please don’t ever stop.
I have no intention of stopping. I hope you don’t either. Thank you Daffni.
https://wordpress.com/post/allanesinclair.wordpress.com/12208
I have nominated you for the Versatile Blogger Award. Participation is not compulsory, but I had to let you know how highly I consider you. Your writing is inspirational, Jimmi.
Allane x
Oh wow. I have… no words. Which isn’t what writers are supposed to say. But I don’t. Thank you an indescribable amount.
Thank you Allane ❤
You’re welcome, Jimmi.