A Mug of Me
Stiffer than a Shot of Espresso

poem to tell her i got it bad

2005-02-22
Hey! You!

Yeah, you with that
"I've got nearly enough on my plate"
look in your eyes.

You know,
I'd just love to kiss you.
I've got this kissing urge that goes way beyond
lips and skin and saliva and tongue.
You know, that sort of kissing urge
that just leads on and on to
all senses tingling
and screaming
and begging for more.

Yeah, I'd love to kiss you
Full, firmly on your pucker
so that our breath mingles
and the sweet secretions of
our mouths, open to each other,
blend and brew.
I'd really like to kiss you - can you tell?

And then,
My hands
would search your face, your head.
A study that wants
examining further.

Your neck,
that smooth highway from your mind
to your physique
I would suckle and lick to find
Your pulse.
Your lifeblood.

I'd like to take the lobe of your ear
between my teeth
and tease your sensibilities
with the naughty ramblings
of my tongue.

I'd like to look deep down into your eyes
and open up your soul to
searing scrutiny.
I'd wrap my aura around yours
to see what could be made.

I'd like to wrap my arms around
you
And hold your body
tightly
Against the corresponding parts of me.
I'd like to feel the pressure of your
breasts and thighs
As they fill and flow beneath
their smoothness.
I'd like to watch them,
and play with them.

I'd like to use my hands against you
and send morse messages
of lust and desire
through your body.
I'd follow each rib, each disc
serving for my dictation.
I'd tattoo these thoughts and dreams
through to yours.

I'd like to massage your fantasies
into reality
and sculpt them into form.

I'd like to wrap your legs around
my legs around your legs
and pull you into my arms into your arms
pushing myself into you.
I'd like to make you climax so that
your brain loses all sense of
reality, time, rationalism and focus
and swells instead with a mantra
that means more.

I'd like to take you on that rollercoaster
where every loop is the crest of a breaking wave
that spirals down and around
and back until
ups and downs
seem no more like directions.

I'd like to meld our bodies into one
joyous ball of energy
bouncing on the pleasurable see-saw
of ecstasy and bliss.

I�d like.


But I won't.


I'm not that sort of guy
any more.

Listening to:

Reading:

Feeling:

9:47 a.m. ::
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