A Particular Taste Part I

A Particular Taste - Part I

My clad limbs, 
Vastly interested in sensual endeavor.
Exhausting complete templates,
Of amatory contemplations. 
Transcribed as erotic penance.
As to the corpulent wickedness, 
Lingering a millimeter or two, 
Beneath your flesh,
Demanding hungrily my rabid fingertips.
To inscribe my name, 
All over your virgin sanities.
With an utmost demonstration, 
Of ecstatic and brutal fantasy.
Forcing this,
Into your most obscure thoughts, 
Most innocent gestures,
Most sensitive nerves, 
Highest virgin chords,
Most masochistic surges of desire.
All of this, 
You gave me control of,
And all else that they bring.
But before I see my task through,
I pour myself one glass of whiskey.
The two ice cubes in my bottomless glass, 
Dance merrily.
Loathing in its amber clarity, 
To a matter of personal content,
You might declare.
I relax...
Take off my tie, 
Vanish my shirt.
Release from sexual repression, 
Yeah, right.
The distant vinyl record, 
Melodically emanates Mozart’s Fur Elise.
Lullabying my primal instincts, 
Back into a dormant state.
And so,
With such company. 
Sip by sip...
I fed the childish demons, 
Laying waste to my innards.
Intoxicating them, 
With nothing more,
Than a sheer glimpse of your strained skin, 
In ropes and wires.
In the hazel intensity of your pupils,
They expand quickly and retreat slowly. 
Then twice. 
Over and over,
And over again.
I whispered,
Starting just above her thighs, 
Traversing my way up.
As I caressed every curve along the way, 
I stop just below her nose.
Merely a few centimeters away.
"Learn to obey, 
And in exchange,
I shall blur all conflict you may know.
We will submerge in seas of pleasure,
And lose all sense of direction,
In valleys of lust.
Where we will coerce,
Within unbeknownst leisure.
Just listen,
And follow my voice."
I fed these words directly into her lips, 
Making little shivers,
Run as deep,
As the marrow of her bones.
I knew I tickled something, 
Somewhat far fetched from curiosity, 
The limits below her waist,
Was soon overcome by that misty secretion.
And eventually conceived one puddle after another.
As would a three night rain.
A deep rose pink tone,
Bled over your small tender cheeks,
Once her limits were reached.
This stuffy room,
Soon reached the temperatures,
Such as those of a furnace.
Drop after drop of sweat,
Soon formed on your breast,
My chest, shoulders an arms.
As a few strayed just below my chin,
As quickly as they ran,
You lapped them right of my neck.
As you begged me,
To coerce your wrists and ankles,
To the firm features of my bed. 
And oblivious to my proximity. 
My warm damp tongue,
Sober of your delicate flavor.
Slithers just above those lips.
Oh such a teaser,
I am pleased to say.
As you scratch against my skin,
Remaking past scars, 
Scars I still remember,
As vividly as the first day,
They conceived my blood.
You never miss a chance to caress,
Trace with your fingertips.
And remember with me.
The constant friction,
Of your body against mine.
My eyes,
Fixed on your lips and neck.
In constant sync,
To the motion of your violent limbs.
Obsessed with your eyes, 
And all they have seen.
Back and forth, 
Back and forth.
Such pleasurable contact,
Damn near heavenly.
I pondered my static and hollow thoughts,
But thoughts nonetheless.
In that moment,
I found my fingers,
Burrowing desperately;
Coiling these selfish flesh wrapped bones,
Over the abundant warmth,
Straying from your fingertips.
As I make the creases on your palms,
Dissipate in shyness,
The tighter my grasp.
With that, 
I was finally driven mad…
I wrapped my arms around you,
And pressed myself as heavily as I could against you.
As I repeatedly muttered,
In low almost unintelligible jitters,
Don’t leave me.
As of now,
My existence belongs to you.
My body is yours to play with.
I am yours to keep.”
That is right,
I gave into the lust of devils.
And in all sincerity,
I have no intention of returning to sane existence.
If you aren’t there to tie it all together.

This poem is about: 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741