Sep 30, 2020
The Turtle
Originally posted: March 13th, 2012
I eagerly hope for contact without effort, until then, I hide.
Loading...
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Lithuania
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from Brazil
seen from Cyprus
seen from Brazil
seen from Latvia
seen from Germany
seen from Pakistan
seen from South Korea
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
The Turtle
Originally posted: March 13th, 2012
I eagerly hope for contact without effort, until then, I hide.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Absolute Beauty
Originally posted: March 15th, 2012 (circa 1999)
Her movements define grace.
Her features define beauty.
Her voice purrs with passionate song,
yet, I could never please her flawless existence.
And I now burn with icy pain;
Worse than the loss of white innocence,
to watch her admire one who does not deserve
the affection of heaven made flesh and sweet blood.
Just Two Turntables and A Son
Originally Posted: May 31st, 2010
Scratched in the heat of a Kingston love song,
an introspective bass line so guttural
it sometimes drowns the world out with a rumble,
so I let it listen to the bleed,
Crafted in an instant,
a wriggling demo between two soundtracks
close to their big time
but just couldn’t make it
a coffee-colored mixtape from two records
one you played if you liked your songs
to hit the track drinking,
he was soft rock
on rare Sunday brunches,
the other rocked me to sleep
she was like Al Jerreau in the mornings
time for school was the hook
Never matching each other’s
beats per minute,
they complimented each other
when played together
he sounded like the blues
dipped in a Johnny Walker Black hue
that’s all I knew about him
his favorite drink,
his favorite song,
that famous refrain
from Clapton’s Cocaine
and liner notes filled with excuses
I made an effort to listen
but craved distance
from his lost album
and am afraid to request it,
fearing I'd hear the chords
I'd inherit.
Hers are the songs I'm less
reluctant to spin,
the sounds of cooking against
the din of all the nicknames
and 2-minute tag games,
her chorus some days was Sade
and some days Marc Anthony
sometimes she sang to me
sweet and halting just to make
me smile because she wanted
to see me happy and catchy
like Swedish pop
even when she was sick
from chemical breakdowns
her own lymph nodes sold out
and ended like every Behind the Music
for anyone famous in the 70's,
despite missing her sweet melodies
I still carry them within
proud to be the son of
a black magic woman.
The Crumbling Temple
Originally posted: July 16th, 2012
You were once a sweet servant catering to any whim I created in the folly of forgotten moments you failed to remember your place you failed to remember mine calling me outside of my name in order to crown yourself some unnamed deity
Yet without my adoration without my venerating touch you are but a statue carved out of lifeless marble not such a wonder to behold any longer, best left to be forgotten in the dust of your neglect made stale by the falseness of your airy benedictions that now fall on deaf ears and dead temples, devoid of welcome or want for your wanton wishes that brought about luminous shudders scarlet contracts binding us until you retraced the steps of Judas and devoutly desecrated eternity.
14 Miligrams
Originally posted: February 29h, 2012
1.
Fingering furtive,
I eye the striped straw rolling
in the still June night
2.
A perverse stage fright
overcomes thumbs, this is not
a ho-hum feeling,
3.
New ceilings break on
the first inhalation whooshed
loosed on my brain stem,
4.
orange rockets pulled
into pockets patching
the septum reeling,
5.
I wonder if frying
my brain is worth it
as I work the straw,
6.
A pen shakily tumbling
over tense knuckles
like a dancing coin,
7.
I sniff readily
as the pen begins
deadly pirouettes across the page.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The Seasonal Lover
Originally posted: May 11, 2014
I was a warm salve welcomed when it was cold but now loathed in May I was a bitter drink too weird to put lips onto not interesting enough with the coming sun more drugged-up sirens will knock your parlor ready, wet Still I'll be writing weird poems trying to forget your brief taste for me.
Hydra
Originally posted: July 6th, 2010- Featuring Kat and Solo
Wielding triple-folded sentences rendering innocent whetstones defenseless, militias metal mandibles maim moist pink petals that hang perfectly over the horizon, cleaving but the goal still tauntingly out of reach, syllables can slash but can’t breach realities, now through sun-soaked intellect rip portals to achieve our task.
Raping lathered beads of sweat, Neither vice nor sin can harm it Figure out a way to disintegrate and meet me post-haste in the wasteland between form and cute sheen, I want to get up in the guts of visceral grammar cuts commas are the blood, periods under the fingertips scraping and gouging open the paragraphed landscape, bringing about the letterocalypse.
Protests of a Marionette
Originally posted: July 22nd, 2010
Skeletal jester, the fool dances starry-eyed to the whims of snakes.