Dreams of her that flame me.

We are walking on the street. It’s a sober afternoon. I am bored and she looks at me and says, make me cum. We plan to go to my room. We haven’t slept together before this. We haven’t even kissed. We reach the room and there sitting on a chair, is my mother. We sit on bed and I start talking to my mother. There is another boy in the room but I cannot remember who. We look at each other to make sure the moment is still there. I am shuffling stories in my head. Looking for something perfect to say to my mother that would make her leave the room. At this point, even two minutes alone with her would be enough. I finally ask mother to make us both a cup of tea. Mother exits the room. I lock it. She strips. Bare naked. I am fully clothed. She falls on the bed and spreads her legs. She has a small cunt. There is no teasing, no caressing, no kisses and no time. She giggles at me as I approach her. My head falls into her lap and I begin to eat her. There is no moaning. Only her thighs rise. Her stomach fluctuates. The room breathes. And she asks me to keep going. When I stop. She doesn’t cum. She laughs. We hold each other for a moment and I wake up.



Tuesday rose.

Sustain the morning of your soul
In the deep blue shades of my afterglow

I will cease to exist
Will not be seen

Will not be heard
Only my words will show

What was
Tied up
What was

What was
Now isn’t
Still it remains
In the form it once occurred.

Its at the beginning
When I first met you

I was a baby crawling
Now I am a woman
And you are to.

Lavender in our misty soul.

Sleep in daily chores.
Days in sleepy rows.

You are my presence
The stunning glow.

I am your child
A witch
And more.

I could be a river
Or the wind

Whatever you are more passionate about.

You’re rose.

I am your paradox.


I am a dice for you. Play me roll me throw me. Each number I sustain is for your amusement. Turn me in your hands. Churn me. And slowly you will see the digits disappearing. An empty skin of a loaded dice.

I am the curtains in your room. You can draw me or wash me as you like. When you want you can cover it with my fabric and not let light pass into your eyes. When the darkness is too much you can split open me right from the middle. Draw my each wing away and rejoice in the sunlight that fills your eyes.

I am you for you.

Love yourself, hate yourself. Know yourself,   be unknown.

Mysteries are enigmatic for a reason. Reason is futile to become a mystery. I am your paradox. In or out up or above try to chase some sense into me and see how strong a paradox is. It’s unchangeable. It’s free of polarized edges. Nothing can breathe sense into a paradox. It lives as it wants to. In the middle of everything.

I am your disappointment. Sit with me. With your hands folded and knees shaky. The words that tremble, the words slowly disassemble.

I am the truth that never hides. But honestly it’s never revealed.

A mothers longing to teach love another lovers black dove.

I am the pause button on your palm. Press me again to resume.

The 180 degree angle. Only half as beautiful as your 360 degree turns.

I am a loud shriek covered by a strong hand or the white cotton of your pillow.

 We have labeled it, defined it, without reaching to its original truth. We are mortal beings who love defining. Who love labeling as much as we do love compartments and classifications.

But I am not a category.

Tease me till decay.

Decay is real. Decay is seen. It smells bad but it has a strong bloody smell. You can cover your eyes and not see it but it’s still there decaying.

The full circle is completing. Endings wrapped in a welcome. Welcome. Welcome.

I am your ending. Reach me.