Twisted Deviant

this truth drives me insane as if the wounds of careless words goes unhealed I wait patiently for the moment to come wrapped up in apprehension I feel so undone I know relief is there just beyond the door but sometimes I wonder when the wind whispers if there is more my tears know nothing but this pain a waking nightmare of useless despair I once believe in the golden promise your honeyed words like a balm how foolish I was It feels as though I’m trapped in the web of wants needing the truth with the substance of cotton candy too sweet to be real so I wait stretched taunt and thin for the adoration of your love never knowing it was false how could I loose myself so utterly to the nothingness that is left a wake for fools will I be mourned at last unbidden they come like rivers of hot pain as I wrap deep inside my misery hidden from all except the night in moments of clarity I lie to myself as if pretending will make it a

feel my fingers gently lightly oh so softly trail down your chest my palm resting just where your heart beats smells like a piece of heaven dark masculine entirely erotic a mixture of spices that teases and tempts the pallet lightly my lips touch nibbling tasting searching against yours drinking the moment arching needing to be closer body to body heart to heart scorched by the feel and wanting to burn more languid in slow patterns my hands learn the symphony of you bold one moment retreating the next in this opus of seduction contrast masculine feminine curves yielding against hard contours delightful differences sparking the want of more delight in the way you respond soft moans tense muscles tightening nipples as my mouth explores descending down my eyes on yours my fingers fumbling in this passion filled moment feeling you hot hard sleek entirely male as my hand cups fingers tightly fisted in my hair as I run my tongue just against the tip slowly circling until my mouth surrounds w

They say that time is subtle; a shifting change on this raging rock of space, but that is only true for those who are immortal. Everyone else is swept up in the maelstrom of seconds, minutes and hours that march into endless days, months and years. Nothing is immortal, not even the Sun, with its intense blazing glory, or the swirling orbs of light dotting the skies at night, though we gaze into the past as we watch them. Magic was once an irrefutable part of the natural order, life ebbed and flowed around the spirit that harnessed the energies flowing from every corner of the cosmos. It was simpler then, everyone could harness a piece, knowledge was fostered and apprenticed out, but like everything in life, that too faded with time. Now magic is a superstitious belief, the deities ignored, their hearth’s devoid of tribute, much as the world is devoid of hope.