0
3 0 3

Over Exposed

You race
through
my blood

like apocalyptic rains

douse me
in fire
off your
serpent
tongue

feeding
my addiction
through
cryptic words
on display

wild
is my mind
wild
is this ride

like a secret
hidden
I have nowhere
else to hide

you expose me…

0
0 0 0

Things that turn me on

brown eyes, thick

lips, buzzed chest,

 

perky butts, romantic

kissing, cuddling during

 

rainstorms, intelligent

conversations, smores

 

and firepits, mystery,

playing hard to get,

 

drive, compression shorts

on treadmills and lifting

 

weights, a good pair

of jeans, tight shirts

 

smiles, white teeth

dimples, jaw lines,

 

awkward hands, scars,

briefs, muscle thighs,

 

kisses on the neck,

stomachs for pillows,

 

reading, tattoos, motorcycle

jackets, suits, and bowties

0
0 0 0

On watching someone you love, love only your body

It will be last call when his name

appears on your phone. Your fingertips

hesitate to answer, go into the bathroom

tell him to meet at your place in half an hour.

When your friends ask who you were talking to

lie to easily, say it was your roommate

go back to your beer; fade invisible.

Slip out the front door to meet your lover.

You will run home, trying as much as possible

to sober your drunken veins just to remember

how his stubble feels against your cheek.

 

When you open the door, he will be standing,

one hand in his pocket, the other on the door frame,

you can tell he has taken one too many shots of tequila

this is the only reason he called. He will smile,

you try not to melt like a G.I. Joe under

the magnifying glass. He does not speak,

he moves effortlessly into your home;

you have forgotten his force, every pulse

is telling you to push him away, to run.

You told yourself last time was the last time

he would control you. He presses his lips

against yours, his hand glides down your spine.

You are surprised at how weak he makes you.

 

He will lead you into the bedroom,

removing your clothing without strength.

You let him take you because you want him to

you know this is the closest you will ever be.

He will lick his way down your stomach.

Do not mistake this for passion.

Remind yourself this is only fun.

Your sweat mixes with his, heat rising

from his body. You can feel his heart

beat in his fingertips.  It is fast and loud,

for a moment you think he could love you.

 

When he ejaculates on your stomach

he will hand you a towel. Clean yourself

off with deliberate force. When you slide

your shirt back on, do not look him in the eye.

Do no ask him to stay holding you until morning.

Do not tell him he is the condom you wear

on blind dates protection from letting

anyone else touch you. Do not tell him

you stay up late at night creating worlds

where the two of you build a beautiful home.

 

He will leave your apartment as easily

as he entered, without a goodbye kiss.

You are the fiddle he uses to escape

his broken life. Go back to your bed.

Hold the pillow holding his cologne.

Wrap your hands around his scent.

Press the fabric close to your face.

Fall asleep to the smell of him.

 

In the morning do not regret what you did,

retell yourself how you could have stopped it

because you could have stopped it, because

you could have stopped it. Wash the smell

of him away in the shower, block his number

again.

0
1 0 1

Puff and Pass

You say, "I'll be the death of you", like that's a bad thing. Who else really deserves the privilege?

I mean, I'm on a rail here, gravitating closer to the far end of the line. There are stops and there are starts, and Gods above, there are some interesting surprises. There's stains on all the seats. But we know one thing - one thing - for sure. Everybody gets off eventually.

It's just a matter of where we stop. I want to stop with you inside of me.

Not in a vulgar way, no. Of course not. But, Hell. I'll take that, too.

Like I took your breath away. I locked it up inside my lungs. I sucked it in and let it burn my bronchioles a pepper-powder black. It wasn't good for me, but Gods above, it tickled something excellent. I mean, you came back up the ridges tongue like a spicy cough. You left my tongue all sandpaper and warm breath, then I tasted you all over again. I tasted blood, but that might not be mine. Hell baby, you tell me. I've got an open ear to spare - it's a road right up to my blockages.

So they say, "You'll be the death of me", like that's a bad thing. But could it really be anyone else?

It could, but hey. Hell. I look that much cooler with you curled up all around me. Then I cough.

Prompt: Writing prompt of the hour: carcinogenic - hourlywritingprompts

(c) 2013 Lawerence Hawkins. I am not a smoker, but a recovering addict from the taste of trouble.

0
1 0 1

To Cody Cummings

For someone who is supposedly straight

You sure have a lot of gay sex

It makes sense

Your body is Herculean

Your penis is Pegasus

Taking you on ride into

Second rate fame

Gay men across the world

Worship you like children

Falling to the feet of their dead beat dad

 

Cody, when you were a child

Did you dream of becoming

A cop, or a fireman, or a lawyer,

Or the perfect shadow of your father?

Did “porn star” ever cross your mind?

How old were you when you realized

The snake between your legs

Would pay your rent someday?

Did your teacher keep you after class

To show how you can make a woman

Scream for more? and now you promote a film

That you are finally fucking another man

Even through the shadows, I can see

Your cock has never grazed a prostate

Your moans are scripted at best

 

Yet, you say the term gay for pay

Is not accurate to your job description

I’d be willing to bet a man

Has never sucked your dick

On the bed you make love to women

I don’t believe you have ever

Truly made love to a man

In the privacy of your own home

In your videos

You take showers with men

You kiss their lips as passionately

As my father kisses my mother

You let them get you off

Then you go home without

Thinking of what your actions

Mean to the queer community

 

How I fuck is not something you can put

A price tag on, fucking another man is not

A job, or a lifestyle, or a choice

It’s what gets me hard.  Sex between two

Love-struck men is like flying

Straight through a hurricane

There is a brief moment in the middle

To re-group and re-think what

The bodies are doing

Fighting with sheets trying

To butcher our bodies

Into each other just to feel whole

 

You are feeding men across

This country a package that

Gay men can somehow turn a jock!

You are becoming more than

Just a fantasy.  There are men

Who would crawl through latex mazes

To kneel at your pelvis

And now I can make love to you

Without ever having met you

I can buy copies of your

Lips, ass, and dick

Then you can fuck me

While I fuck and suck you

At the same time

While you are out to dinner

With a women you could

See yourself marrying someday

 

So, if you want to get paid

To have sex with men

Own the term gay for pay

Because Cody, there is

A difference between being gay

And only letting a man touch you

When the cameras are on

0
0 0 0

Impactful

She fell on him like a cold-blooded concussion. He saw her coming a mile away. He always would. She just had that kind of look in her eye, whenever he stumbled into their old town.

He always crawled out.

Scratches. Scrapes. Imprints of keyboards on his shoulder-blades. Glass shards peppered through his scalp. Lacerations from unworthy IKEA put-togethers up and down his flanks, his arms, and his refurnishing budget. Little blue-black welts like kisses on his neck matched with her lipstick.

He looked back and saw double. He tried to think and landed somewhere nauseated.

They say not to sleep, but that's just folklore. Still, better safe than sorry, so he called her again.

His head hit the floor with a sickening thud.

He felt better already.

Prompt: countingstarsincabinsix submitted to writeworld:

His head hit the floor with a sickening thud.

Writer’s Block

In one sentence is the spark of a story. Ignite.

Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a memory about this sentence. Write something about this sentence.

Be sure to tag writeworld in your block!

The events above are not based on real experiences or circumstances. Any resemblance to real events is appreciated, however, and we would like to know where to encounter more of them.

(c) 2013 Lawerence Hawkins. Always seeking writing prompts, questions, feedback, or requests for the same.

0
0 0 0

Service With a Smile

Let me be your bone collector, sir and/or madam.

I'll make you all polished on the inside.

There's no need for compensation, dear, I run this service strictly out of love, more or less.

Not for you, no, naturally, but for the pretty bones you're hiding underneath.

I love the uncomplicated you.

Tell me your best lies; I want to tear them up like wrapping paper, like a paper-thin dress in the very worst of hands. I'll never touch you, but those bones will never stop. No matter how you try.

They're inside you, after all. Don't be ridiculous.

Tell me your worst truths; I want to turn your dirty business bright and wax-smooth on my fingertips. I want to be the soft cloth in your closet. I want to rustle when we're all alone. I want to be the comforting sliver of light shivering in underneath your door. No matter where you hide.

I'm here to hide you, after all. Don't be ridiculous.

There's no need to penetration, dear. I run this service strictly with my hands clean, more or less.

Not for me, no, naturally, but for the pretty bones you're hiding underneath.

I love the uncomplicated you.

Let me be your bone collector, sir and/or madam.

I'll make you all polished on the inside.

 

Prompt: 

An intrusive Anonymous asked you: Skeleton in your closet? Throw me a bone.

I know what you did, but I won't judge you, so long as you don't just me for needing to know. (c) 2013 Lawerence Hawkins. Seeking writing prompts, questions, critiques, critique requests, likes, follows, reblogs, and a little place inside your...heart. Yes.

0
0 0 0

Posession

Move in such a way as to make every inch of my body take notice.

Speak to my soul and make me crave every syllable.

Breathe a fire into my loins that only you can quench.

Make my breathing hitch and pant with desire.

Take my body to new heights of yearning, longing for your strength.

Beckon me home to your soul where oneness is inevitable.

Demand your carnal satisfaction from my willing body.

Breathe into my ear and whisper raging declarations of need.

Mercilously push me beyond an errant doubt of your ability.

Take from me that which is yours unapologetically.

Drive me to unrestrained cries of passion and insatiable wanton sighs.

Cause me to quake and throb as only you can.

Slake your thirst on my body and exhaust your need on my soul.

And when you’re through,

Call to my heart and take it delicately into yours.

Hold me as you hold a treasured posession.

Possess me and call me yours.

1
0 0 0

cravings.

I told you, “no,”
my eyes said, “yes.”
empty floor,
meet 
empty dress.
sweating more and
caring less,
baring skin and
losing breath.
exorcism exercise-
break my back 
then tie my thighs
around your neck.
I don’t expect the
demons to leave,
they’re comforted by
pleasured heaves.
believe me when
I tell you this;
salted tongues 
and scars are bliss.

0
2 0 2

da capo

 

I wake as you back into me

our scent excites deliciously

throughout the night we’ve loved at will

our flesh afire, we’re needy still

 

our lips have tasted head to toe

repaid the mounting debt they owe

to needy bodies, souls and hearts

with love we’ve laved our burning parts

 

here in the dark, by sweet lees teased

another storm’s to be appeased

you make me want with lust anew

my crimson granite needing you

 

felt for and found your chalice sleek

entrancing quaff that makes me weak

desire so dire – Love’s edge we whet

we have not had enough - not yet

 

you grasp me gently - be my guide

our pleasure pure, hearts hunger plied

with prescient thrusts, felt deep inside

inciting glee we cannot hide

 

I love you, lady…you're my shrine

these comely gifts you give are mine

of all your treasures I admire

your body’s yielding, I desire

 

so - love me once again, sweet Dream

I am your vassal; you’re my Queen

possess me finely once again

with ardency that never ends…