An Aged, Bitter Collection of Poetry, Prose, & Papers

Sex

There's something gritty about the passion of humans

Something innately disturbing about the filth

Words shame and entice

Lips ravage the body, leaving moist residue and deep, dark colorations

Teeth roam, nibble and tease

Eyes hardly see except to devour

Hands that tread lightly, tighten around the throat and handle the breast

Legs that grasp, intertwine and tangle

But there is that thing, tense and pulsing

It's strange and salty

Sensitive to touch and tounge

Scandalous and guilty fun

Until he wants more

It's the honest form of passion I hate

Belittled to naught but a sliver, a slot

Even as the passion mounts, left behind

Once a lusty game

Now a shameful thing

It feels like hours and the deed is done

I lay, raw and exposed

And wonder why I didn't say 'no'

I had wanted it, hadn't I?

They say it gets better, but it only gets worse

And I wonder what a woman's touch feels like

And I wonder if touch is even necessary