Lover’s Game

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Your game started before you even walked in the door.
The love of your life
Your darling wife
The woman you adore
Your secret little whore
She’s dying to please
You’ve been such a sadistic tease
She’s aching for your touch
She’s been wet all night Laying in bed
With thoughts of your head
Between her smooth legs
Please she begs
Please fuck me ,she moans
She knows it’s you who owns
The glistening mound between her thighs
Lord knows she loves the look in your eyes

 

Photo by Lana Abie

 

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Created Fate

You’re begging, pleading

Always needing

You long for the touch

The forever after and such

Yet deep down you know

To the core of your soul

There exists the feeling you can never control

All the self hate that will flow

As you unravel all you create

And loneliness is your fate

Reckoning

The sun slipping down goes without notice

The night beckons

And with it comes a reckoning

As all hope fades

And human nature must be obeyed

 

The darkness grows

With each hammering blow

As the words flow from bleeding lips

And cast off looks from darken eyes

Leave no surprise

To the damage done

In a world without a sun

 

No victor will stand

As the dust settles in

There will only be defeat

For all who suckle at this teat

It’s easy to misunderstand

The feeling within

 

That makes the violence start

Coming straight from the wounded heart

As worlds shatter

For all that matter

The end in sight

Of the bitter final fight

In the waning of the light

Monster

Sharp words, Cutting deep

Wounded soul, bleeding heart

Left on the floor in tatters, torn apart 

Were I not a monster I would weep

Yet I have no time and promises to keep

As I make my way through the dark day 

Of absence sleep 

Yet dream of the love that slipped away 

Because a monster doesn’t know how to say you are it’s everything 

When it is nothing

The Gates

In the moon’s light

There in the soft darkness

Kneeling at paradise’s door

Opened mouth

To receive the supplication

Like a wanton whore

Licks that are deep and thick

 

Tasting the ambrosia smooth and slick

Only a moan from within without a voice

Pleasure With utter devotion

As the doors, open south

As if by choice

Sweat glistening from eagerness

With no end in sight