I’ve been struggling with the muses for months now, and last night I forced myself to mess with words until I had something. It’s not much, but it’s not nothing either. –M
Hands too twitchy
to put pen to paper
wanting to dig deep
into your flesh
write with impressions
bruises of grip
Body too tense
to vocalize desire
wanting to pierce
to fuck into you
the totality of
my need
Word-deserted
I speak instead
with concussions
The sharp sound
of bodies
in impact
Read what I can’t write
Hear what I can’t say
And stay
Please
Stay
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Monocle,
for someone who is struggling, you are doing very well. ;)
Of course, you couldn’t drive me away with whips. :D
Pretty powerful stuff for One who is fighting the Muses…and the “it’s not a lot” is subject to interpretation…
i thought this was beautiful…almost painful in its honesty. It is poignant, intense, needy. And really neat to see it from the Other side….that there are needs in You-the Tops, equally as powerful as those that live in us, the subs.
if you can evoke that sort of emotion, that deep of a reaction from so few words, i’d say that Your muse has forgiven You…*smiles*
nilla
I’ll be honest: I don’t have much of a taste for poetry, and if I did, I wouldn’t have any particularly enlightening commentary on it. But, if you’re having trouble putting thoughts into words, perhaps you could always go back to your older style? Your older stories seemed to have such enthusiasm behind them.
Thank you, Mic. I sincerely appreciate the thought. It’s not so much trouble putting thoughts down. It’s more trouble having thoughts that drive me to put them down. Most of the enthusiasm you see in my stories comes – or came – from the words making themselves be written. I find it’s something that truly resists forcing.
This poem is beautiful, and full of yearning. I love it for so many reasons.