Crave

I want your ass
in my mouth
in my hands
I want to feed
on your flesh
I want to hear
your voice
freed from words
I want your flesh
Call to the Heavens
Ecstatic relief
Relief
Only this

What good is flesh
Separated from
The soul?

Skin

My skin can barely keep back
                    all these broken pieces
                                        jostling around
                                                           inside me.

Consumption

When did we first learn to devour flesh?
How did we listen to the voice urging
us to take a life to sustain our own?
Has God feasted on flesh?
Is our nature cast in His image?
We consume life, in turn,
We are consumed by it.

Random Post

The Sky will speak through me
in gulps of breath

                            while Water
soaks my flesh and feeds my life.

__________

My kindness has been cruel to me.

__________

Planned Obsolescence

I am a small thing
in a big world
in an even bigger universe.

My flesh is not as durable
as stone, not even my teeth
or bones. My mind

is an infinite thing housed
in a finite container with
an expiration date T.B.D.

I am composed primarily
of water, though, I do not
evaporate on a hot day.

My hands are strong
but they are made of many
fragile bones and tendons-

the same thing can be said
of my feet. My skin covers
me whole, though, it is easy

to pierce or cut. My eyes
reveal a palette of sights
that delight and disgust me,

show me proof of my
insignificance. My ears
inundate me with a constantly

shifting score composed
for every known and unknown
instrument and creature.

My tongue serves as an advance
scout for my stomach
before in put is broken into

components of use and waste.
My hardware has peaked
and will only age as newer

models are released every day.
In time, if I am lucky, I will
become obsolete and tended

to by younger models of our
kind. This does not sadden me.
Nature did not intend this.

We are not built to last.
How horrible a thing
it would be if we were.