ottermonkey Profile

Total Posts	Last Post	Last Seen	Joined
14079	09/07/08 15:08:15	09/07/08 15:08:15	11/23/03

Visitors Now	Visitors Today	Most Visits	Total Visits
0	6	31 06/03/08	1054

We are alone now

Let's say,
we are alone now.
In an empty room,
window open
to rough city sounds. You know
me by my accent,
the green of
this room would
swallow you. It
makes the walls
permeable; Paintings
float on its surface.
Your hair has
it's own aura,
you don't sleep well,
your lights make
you wanted. I have
touched you before,
you weren't sleeping
perhaps your
insomnia was created
to make you want me.
But I am not
as easy as that. A hollow scream
splits the air,
half of it smashes a window
in the far corner.
You told me it was
just a grumbling train. We hold a
pillow to our heads,
just as the sun
woke up, kissing the moon goodnight.
Is Venus his mistress?
When you look into
the night sky, isn't that
the sun dressed as
Bogart romancing Venus
under a cloud of his
own smoke?
There is something about you
that makes me lose where I am.

What do you want to tell me

Origami Corazon

Late summer morning
reminders of nighttime
still life slumber.

Your voice moves on
warmth, my body wakes to
it's moist rhythm

Captured

Beginning to see colors, a blue, a pink,
unbrushed on walls, those green patches.
Reaching between the faults, mine are
not as bad as drawn, yours are worse
in shape but make you innocent, even your
night shades are star shaped and your
gait is fuzzy angelic; spreading yourself,

begging with soft brown eyes gaging the
rough distance between my wait and your
intimate capture would take me from my
drinking to spilling into you. Why do we
game up every play, when sliding into home
eventually makes our hearts filthy, I would
sell this soaked desire to another, but waterfalls

take their victims too fast. I would take time,
open your long, brown legs, feel my rivers run.

Keeping the colors blushed, pastels of want
edge so slowly where we last slept, the
ease of your hand stroking my face, down
parting lips of your best pose, the sole plant

ore of womanhood, scaling the erected heights
under a ceiling falling in stars and wind, we
replay the faults, those cracks, those places

searingly hot, the valley floor opens, and I fall,
head deeper than your itch, passing the first
intended burst, clutching your sweat slicked body,
planting my seed, we rock in force fed
silence, I take a breath, yet no air enters,

fragile as we are, we hold on like children
roses digging our thorns deeper, a cast
of two strangers, two entities,
made up of flesh, lust and bone hard gazes,

pushing where we started, I feel hotter release,
ashes fall as we erupt, fingers meshed, lips
searing into flesh, I am drunk on you, you
sip me and stagger away into the failing light,
in that gasped moment, I realized I am enslaved,
not free to love you. There is no choice, no other
guilt, I am under your spell and can't walk away.

My yuku Posts

Title	Type	Date
Re: First Hen Pen Joint Writing Endeavor: An Adventure of Im-Portents: Discussion	Reply	09/07/08
Re: Rough Ride	Reply	09/07/08
Re: April Sonnet 26	Reply	09/07/08
Re: -My Taste Of You-	Reply	09/07/08
Re: A Dad for OM	Reply	09/07/08
Re: Withdrawal Symptoms	Reply	09/07/08
Re: Chicken Soup for the Soul	Reply	09/07/08
Re: Question on the singing rooster in music f	Reply	09/07/08
Re: Predator And Prey	Reply	09/07/08
Re: Watering Dreams	Reply	09/07/08

Diane Marie

Lesions, skin pared back, blood soaked white bone of my
five year old head...This from your long, plaid skirt caught in a chain.

You, whom beauty seemed so bestowed, graced more detentions,
odd paths and candle-lit vigils. One so waited on, my dear sister.

One twenty year old picture of you, playfully teary eyed, green moss
in your nose and laughter pinned straight on your lips, embarked.

You always lied, in talking to those who knew me as a child, all
for the love you gave me in a sweet package I could not open.

If I were to draw you, a crayon to make your end farther, I would
color your lungs and give you more muscle, I would place my arms around you.

In the bliss of not knowing when, this disease takes more than your muscle,
I lose all the stones...the forehead has healed...I wish you could do the same.

For my sister, in the final stages of ALS.