writing with wine ~ never good

lucky fucking pea

he’d done went and escaped

why that little renegade

run pea, run. before they call the brigade 

and bring your ass back, to your worst fate

a shitty pasta salad, on grandmas plate

run pea, run. don’t stop, don’t hesitate

i get it, your spirits to big to be caged

the cry of that big world out there, it does stimulate

so run pea, run far, then celebrate

and pea, i hope your spirit, it does now resonate

‘cuz even if  you did return
 and try to sparkle up this shit pasta salad,

these bitches,

will just keep talking up the  lemonade.

~j~ 

It’s a red dress

kind of a day.

A shake it off,

doesn’t matter,

get outta my way

kind of a day.

A false smile,

hair done right,

me? 'outta sight!'

kind of a day.

A well rehearsed

life’s been good,

like it should

kind of a day.

~j~

Red Wine

 + 

Bubbles Filling a Tub

+

Hozier ~ Singing Van
 so loud you can hear him 

while completely submerged

=

Therapy    [squared]

We once were vibrant.

Bittersweet cherry.

Ultramarine.

Hues the world

had never see.

We once were brilliant.

Tickled pink.

Apricot.

We always knew.

We never thought.

We now are muted.

Obsidian.

Granite grey.

With thanks to words

too hard to say.

.j.

glass of wine

find the will

find the right light

lose the stage fright

take a deep breath

let it all go

while wondering 

does he even know

no matter the pixels or resolution

its of no substitution

for what i really want him to view

what i long to put his body through

this desire isn’t captured in one shot

this intensity for his touch, you just cannot

fit in one quick image

so please, just pay me a visit

stay for awhile or all through the night

but give me the chance, so that i just might

show you the images you long to see

then log them to your memory, 
while your deep inside me

~j~

The boy

 who will get my love,

will quit 
trying

to catch 
this heart

that I dangle

and drag.

He won’t
just 
kind of

reach for it,

bend to it,

seek for it.
Nope,
he’ll just know how to

tend to it.

He’ll simply notice it such,
covered in smudge,
being drug through the grass,
protected by ‘sass’
He won’t be timid,
won’t need gimmicks,
He'll just stomp it hard

with the heel

of his shoe

and It’ll
 knock
 me
flat

And well,
that’ll be that!

~j~

Weekends

dark dance floor, 

... and well, i’ll be damned..

i like where you have the nerve to slide your hand

i hear what your suggesting

and i feel your body expressing

all your ideas,  and dirty visions

and honestly,  i respect your ambitions

but those ideas of yours,  well,  i have all the best

and i don’t mean to be harsh, but you smell like all the rest

i’m sure you look grand, all hot and undressed

but it takes so much more for me to even be impressed

i mean, i don’t even know your name

so, on this dance floor, is where this moment will remain

because really, i hate this game

it just reeks of pure shame

and anonymous sex for me, is quite lame

see, i don’t think this takes much effort

and honestly, i’m worth so much better
for me, i need at least ‘knowing’, hell, even some ‘basic info'

oh, you like random sex? then kindly move on to the next bimbo

see, i have to be intrigued, fascinated, interested, and stimulated

 then all sexual possibilities are completely unlimited  

you see theres this darker child, she lives within

she’s been through a lot of shit in her life 

 {where would i begin?}

she’s gotta trust you

maybe even 'look up to’

she’s gotta know one hand 

is gentle, pure, and good

and the other hand has the confident strength,

 to show her why she should

and that’s the hand she likes best

that’s the hand, that will surely get her undressed

and beware, 

if your someone who can tap into her ’sexual-sense'

she’ll definitely open up

 and she can be pretty fucking intense 

but you?  i don’t mean to laugh at your expense

it’s not really you,  it’s me,  so don’t take offence

the stimulation i need,

 requires layers, depth, and serious passion

and someone who i trust will be able to handle

 all this sexual aggression 

for i have a need to be ‘j’ ..and not get lost in translation

but hey, watch that other hand,

 because that’s not an ‘ok location'

 truth be told,  i don’t mind all this flirtation

but flirt all you want,  there will still be no penetration 

as long as you know,  you don't intrigue me deeper

and this night for you, just keeps looking bleaker.

~j~

You, me
and my
lingerie.

What say we
get together
and make it
a day?

Play your
cards right,
we might make it
a night.

Then you’ll truly know
I’m not bark,
I’m all bite.

~j~

You’re going to
wake up one morning
and discover
that I’ve become
just another
red lipstick stain
on your
white cotton sheets.

You’re going to
go to bed one evening
and discover
that you’ve become
just another
one of those boys
who wasn’t
good enough for me.

~j

what if i was persistent
fuck persistent,
 insistent 
would you still be resistant 

because this need for you
has become like my sickness
so i say we do it
then worry later about forgiveness 

p.s. fuck forgiveness, i could care less
im not exactly sinless

~j~

:::

I’d like to
press my
palms
flat
to the skin
of your
chest
just to feel
your heart
skip
as I licked
[soft]
your
neck

:::
~j~

five hundred and eighteen

unable to post

keep them stuffed in my closet,

like some god damn ghost

no idea, really, what is worse

to afraid to live out loud,

or your label of ‘shame' and ‘perverse'

some say its a talent

'so poised in your verse'

screw that, oversexed is my true curse

so rather then live out loud

i’ll stay behind these closed doors

take all that is truly me, right down to my core

tuck that shit away, in tight little drawers

to avoid your damnation, and outburst of wars

until the day that i just can’t anymore

so consider yourself warned,
it’s getting harder to ignore

because i can feel it,

trying like hell to seep out my pores

 ~j~

 I want to 
strip you bare 
of reservation.

 Puddle that dinner jacket of doubt

 in the corner

 along with my
 'come fuck me' shoes.

 Rip open the fabric of adventure, 

lay loose
 stitch
 after stitch. 

Pop the buttons from illusion

 and zip reality 
up tight.

 Check the inseam of
 erotic 

to get a good,
 measured fit.

 Try on sin in every color, 

from chartreuse to black. 

and accessorize each other 
with decadent 

chains 

of 

touch. 

~j~

Bewitching black art

should win your heart.

Incantation and spells

could do me well.

Alchemy and tricks

might make this quick.

Prophecy and rune

could bring you soon.

Allurement and charm

should cause no harm.

llusion and smoke

could love provoke.

Conjuring power

might shorten the hour.

Divination taboo

would take me to you

but I fear we’re all out of tricks 

and the potions are all gone

now,

if I could just get my heart to move on.

.j.

I’m thinking of

putting up

all of the

bug killer

tomorrow.

That’s the

only reason

I can think of

as to why my

fairy godmother

hasn’t shown yet.

~j~

I’ve turned my back
on many a boy
in my handful
of years
on this earth.

No backwards glance,
only eyes askance,
and It continues
until I can find
just one
of some worth.

.j.

‘You are all

my thoughts’,
you whisper,
as you turn,
walk through
that final door.

I watch you go.
I sketch a heart.
Wish, I could of been 
all your thoughts
but also
 so much more.

.j.

Your uttered verbs

do unspeakable things 

to the adjective

in front of my noun.

Damn.

You’re like being hit with a word roofie.

~j~

A moment like this,

a memory as such,

that electric friction

of a lover’s touch,

why, 
it’s almost

worth selling

your
 soul
 for.

~j~

His Hands

 It's more then just your skin, your bodies heat,

  or the strength of your grip

  oh no,…thats but nearly the tip

this is the exact moment I can feel myself slip,

feel my heart skip,

my consciousness take a trip,

lose all my jurisdiction, 

start to lose my shit

if you must know,

it's exactly how to touch me within

it's not about ..'who has who pinned'

or the share of our sins.

oh no, 

this stuff,

 makes my heart grin

it's the surest way to deprive me of oxygen, 

and cut off the flow 

to my grip on reality

I simply lose all control.

It's the quickest way to melt me,

right down to my soul

it's my poison, my kryptonite

so while in the heat of us, don't reach for mine, 

and grasp on, like your clenching to life 

for I'll surely surrender my heart, 

there won't even be a fight.

 ~j~