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topic: pyroclastic flow [explicit]
by Rachelle Howeshe was my offering.
the bass and beat matching
the tempo of thighs, hips;
nails, hands, legs and
everything in between.
i had laid her out to dry;
her innerworkings my playground.
my lips were nestled in the crook
of her throat and neck, palms upon her
knees to push her allthewaydown.
"slower, right there..." she guided me,
an apollic search. we had discovered the
white wash and semblance of what
it would be to be joined by the soul.
our first time, unearthing her warmth
her, unearthing my animalistic views:
stained redemption and
pyroclastic flow.
10/16/2003 Author's Note: DAMN YOU, WILEY OTIS! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! ...and i love you for it. uh, it didn't quite come out at all how i had originally invisioned it, but eh! such is the way of improv, non!?
Posted on 10/16/2003
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristine Briese on 10/16/03 at 06:22 PM Yes, indeed. Quite the attention-getter. |
| Posted by Ginette T Belle on 10/17/03 at 02:07 PM lovely..imagery is powerful...energy flows throughout...capitivating...hmmm, just beautiful... |
| Posted by Jason Wardell on 10/17/03 at 09:32 PM O_O AIKO, IS THIS TRUE?
Erm... no, it's not. I only gave the topic, Rachelle created the beauty. :) |
| Posted by Don Coffman on 10/18/03 at 07:06 PM I can see it all; feel the beat, see the sacrifice sprawled on the altar to be offered, and then that volcanic end. Amazing stuff, Rach.
Oh yes, damn that Wiley Otis! *shakes fist* |
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