Empty Sex Pt 2

Crystal beads cascade, drained
through the freshly bleached porcelain.
I expunging the sweet souvenirs of our sleepless night.
Sober from the water and the whirring extracting fan,
Here I dry, stood, stuck at you.
no longer clouded in ecstasy.

We dance flicking invites and excuses
days stepping forward and rear,
forte e piano.

In our immediacy we erupted
to spill but sparks upon damp wood.
A trudge toward a desirable goal .

I see you only
within digital screens,
devoid of an intimacy once tasted
And I wonder, to what precisely did I grasp?

*****

Link to Part 1:

https://jcfitzderick.com/2015/07/28/empty-sex-pt-1/

Velvet’s Peace

Past midnight,
come the hours of calm.
Where the ether is still,
still enough to see its reflection.

Minds and fingers twitch,
the heady rush of this world’s
many tempting deaths, abandoning reality,
in return to the cold sobriety of the bedroom ceiling.

Continue reading

Half / Cast

Half-hearted, I half-listen,
to your half-stories,
feeling half-dead,
for the whole time you’re here.

At half-one, you half-know,
I half-care, what you say,
it’s halflife, too long life,
for me to wish to stay.

This day half-cast, brings half light,
sat half lotus, thinking half-baked,
about half-truths, I half-know,
that I still repeat to myself today

Will I be half-arsed, or half-keen
today’s halftime ‘s, but daydreams
as whole-hearted, I half pray
since I’m half man, half the day…

Empty Sex Pt 1

In a carnal crash of two
eyes glazed
heated in sexual need.
We sought our delicious counter.

I approached you,
bearing words of no weight.
You were smiling, cheeks rosed,
eyes coyly flitting away.

Upheld by the bar and it medicines,
we back and forth, exchanged air,
hoping for a bold gale,
so we may sail afar.

And so,
surrounded by shoes fitting another,
in your bed,  I wake.
An explorer of every pleasure’s niche,
my right arm humming, unconscious
from a precarious night’s pose.

We sip tea, and a second one too,
laying again exposed,
as we flick questions, discovering
passions and pursuits .

Clothed now in Hampstead, we part,
returning to our lives before this past morning,
our gaze locked, gasping reunion.

This Friday -As The Last

My eyes flee to all corners of my four walled hold,
liberation grasped through windows, stolen back.
Back to the luminescent glare of my old HP;
as I acquiesce to my paid servitude.

The week’s edge nears as time retreats,
the seconds absconding -drawing You ever closer.
Closer still, the embracing thoughts of Sunday’s sheets,
enveloping me –warm, contented, in your arms.