nsfw – Every Breath Poetic

la petite mort

O, my sweetest peach, ma chérie…
let me bestow your petite mort…
With a petite-grand finale;
come the gifts of fireworks & fantasia…
the gifts of a first breath and a last breath, the Gift of LifeAndDeath… […]

la petite mort
(the little death)

O, my sweetest peach, ma chérie…
let me bestow your petite mort…
With a petite-grand finale;
come the gifts of fireworks & fantasia… 
the gifts of a first breath and a last breath, the Gift of LifeAndDeath…  
And let me bestow you such a pleasure
such a celebration of this, life that we use as a given,
for we are faberge fragile – if ever we are; 
we are….right-now, right-together…

Maybe my words of mortality conjure up images of the gothic and finite, 
but I promise you {my holdin’ one} I am no hooded ghoul here to steal your light…
I am already a bearer of my own light, and I’m the bearer of your little death; 
orchestrating the chorus that sings of your unique meaning, 
that accentuates and punctuates a galloping breathing – 
for that two in one special: the synchronization hearts beating…

When I give you your little death,
then I will admire an afterglow as bright and wide as the sun-shattered earth,
which will lead into a flush of life, a longing----stretching---- birth of joy –  
through and through – let it thru to your every trembling toe;
your sin-sensational declaration/the ringing of your ecstasy’s exclamation… 

…Echoing/echoing/echoing,
through and through – let it thru; this is a reaction of the shared alone– 
…Echoing/echoing/echoing… 
this is The Big-Bang of Personal Proportions, 
through and through – let it thru, to every sin-sensitive bone–
as of this moment –you are triggered by pure electric reactions…    

O, my sweetest berry, ma chérie,
you will be my own, little scythe/my own, inspired little death,
and our sheets will be cleansed in death-sweats; and, as a pair of ghosts
we will wish to die again, and again –  so that we may have another chance to cherish, 
another time to haunt… to relish… to flaunt,
ours/yours/my, grand, petite mort…



08/19/11
M. L. Michael

About…

an amusing theory regarding man’s desire (NSFW)

Ladies – you will have to forgive us Men…
Nature has played a joke regarding our structure,
by giving us enough blood to operate all our parts,
yet only enough to think with one Head at a time.

So, whatever Head we put behind the wheel,
the other will tend to wither…[…]

An Amusing Theory Regarding Man’s Desire


Ladies – you will have to forgive us Men…
Nature has played a joke regarding our structure,
by giving us enough blood to operate all our parts,
yet only enough to think with one Head at a time.
 
So, whatever Head we put behind the wheel,
	the other will tend to wither…

Man is either too hot with their hard-on,
	and thusly soft with their noggin,

or:

Man is too reflective with their reason,
	and thusly limp with their dolphin.

…and Somewhere 
Nature can be heard Snickering…
	
08/09/09
M. L. Michael

About…

a cheeky, cheeky, goal

It is my Goal to make you Squirm,
my Goal to make you giggly,
oh so wriggly,
to catch you ‘neath my thumb;
‘twixt your pleas of glees,
and your moans of hums… […]

A Cheeky, Cheeky Goal
(to make you Squirm) v.4

It is my Goal to make you Squirm,
my Goal to make you giggly, 
                                               oh so wriggly,
to catch you ‘neath my thumb;
‘twixt your pleas of glees,  
                                          and your moans of hums…
Ah, that is my Goal,
                                   to make you Squirm -deliriously…


Yes… …I’ll wait to come for you…
if you’ll do this favor by answering 
my invitation of a shared surrender:

          I’m talking of
          Rollicks and Romps, thru Sweet-Glistening-Meadows –
          Rollercoasting along Tender-Mountains and Shimmery-Valleys,
          and Exclamations of earUpting ecstasies! 
          –
          (with breathless pants of pure-true-pleasures,
          and all our sighs… our soft sighs – 
          our sound sighs – our spiritual sighs,
          our symphony of simply sensual sanctity…)

Yes, it is my Goal to make you Squirm,
my Goal to impact a part of my Passion,
_to treat your body as rich as a mansion_
because, yes, it is my Goal, it is my Honor, 
to make you Squirm, to make you Soar…

06/02/09
M. L. Michael

About…

brutal honesty is not for the weak hearted (NSFW)

I only think of you,
when my dick is hard &
aching for some-kind-of
hungrin’-human-touch-and-touch
like some-kind-of
inticin’-invitin’-such-and-such.[…]

Brutal Honesty Is Not For The Weak Hearted.
(A ‘Single’ Explanation)

I only think of you,
when my dick is hard &
aching for some-kind-of
hungrin’-human-touch-and-touch
like some-kind-of
inticin’-invitin’-such-and-such.

I can barely hide it-
I can’t keep dry in my dreams
I certainly can’t wake up in the morning
without that solid rock-of-gibralter
pumping these thoughts of pumping
through my body like rigor mortis,
with the thought of you;
and your promise of la petite mort.

…

When all I have to do is ignore it away,
or secretly erase it through-
and once my desire is shed away
I’m no longer thinking of you…
(and I find I no longer give a fuck
 rather you would ever give one to me)

/01/10/09/
M. L. Michael

About…

what’s in a F##K?

they met in the shadows
and all they did was
fuck, fuck, fuck.
because there in the shadows,
they were refugees from
love, love, love.[…]

what’s in a fuck?

they met in the shadows
and all they did was 
fuck, fuck, fuck.
because there in the shadows,
they were refugees from
love, love, love.

there he stabbed his pain away
and there she broke hers apart
there in the presence of never knowing
they shoveled in each other’s heart.

then after their agreement was over
they retreat separately into the dawn
until the night returns as always,
and their hole needs to be seen to again.

08-22-06
M. L. Michael

About…

you, the god damning drunk…

would you hear me out,
if all i ask is for something small,
would it even matter if..
all i ask is for one day without the thirst,
one day without waking up thinking
about that desire for the drink
that steadily thrives into a must.[…]

you, the god damning drunk
(are not very eloquent) 

would you hear me out,
if all i ask is for something small,
would it even matter if..
all i ask is for one day without the thirst,
one day without waking up thinking 
about that desire for the drink 
that steadily thrives into a must.

if you would grant me that one wish,
so that i may own that one day,
i’d use it to arrange myself straight,
save whatever aches I must endure.
i’d gather up all my ducks first,
save whatever damage their pecking ensues.
i’d gather all my shit into one corner,
save whatever stench I couldn’t wash away.
if you would grant me that one wish,
i’d stop wasting, if only for one day
i’d stop wanting.

but that’s not possible, 
even if you could, i doubt you would;
lest i find my own damn way 
out of the dark..

ya know what, fuck you, 
for letting me entertain this idea,
for letting me be tonight’s entertainment,
with my drunkards jig, 
and my equally sillier speech..
yes, i may be saying this with a slur,
but my meaning still rings through.

yeah, so, fuck you 
for replying with your silence
as heavy as a look in the mirror..
because i know what it means
without having to know what it means..
(cuz’ this pain has to mean something,
right?)

yea, so fuck you,
you, the god damning drunk,
who needs to sleep it off.

\\08-17-06
M. L. Michael

About…

vulgar: (her name is anyone)

she had a tattoo just below her belly:
it was a dictionary definition that read:
“a strong, positive emotion of love,
regard, and affection. (an antonym of hate)”

those were the letters inked just above
her sparsest patch of hair,
and etched deeper over her heart.[…]

vulgar: (her name is anyone)

	
she had a tattoo just below her belly:
it was a dictionary definition that read:
“a strong, positive emotion of love,
regard, and affection. (an antonym of hate)”

those were the letters inked just above 
her sparsest patch of hair,
and etched deeper over her heart.

she had a tattoo just below her belly.
which made me weary 
to bring my love home.
it was just a sentence i already knew,
but it still made me weary,
to take away what i knew meant more.

…all she asks is you know that definition
before you follow that trail in;
she doesn’t ask if you believe it or not, 
but it is clear she wishes you acknowledge it
before you follow that trail in.

because penetration is more penetrating
when love is left undefined…

M. L. Michael 
07-03-06

About…

ufo.ufo.

ufo.
ufo.
please, take me from
my manufactured hellhole.
please, abduct me from
this circus tent hell-show. […]

ufo.ufo. 


ufo.
ufo.
please, take me from
my manufactured hellhole.
please, abduct me from
this circus tent hell-show. 

ufo.
ufo.
analyze me into the ground,
make me dirty and unrecognizable.
probe me for the answers, 
on why i keep getting fucked.

ufo.
ufo.
maybe you heard me 
decrying my tears,
lost under the midnight whiskey
drunk against the fields of years, 

ufo.
ufo.
maybe you took a note from god
and decided it was better to ignore
than stick your all-knowing-glowing finger,
in my business to implore.

ufo.
i want to be saved,
but i don’t want to save myself…
ufo.
i want to be changed,
but i don’t want to change myself…

06-26-06
M. L. Michael

About…

Sid(n’)Nancy

yeah- you know, it’s so erotic,
when you pucker your lips over my barrel,
and moan some sounds like:
you love me, or, you loathe me.
whatever, it doesn’t matter, because
yeah- you know, it’s too erotic,
when your eyes whisper to stop,
but your lips quiver like an addict.[…]

Sid(n’)Nancy

yeah- you know, it’s so erotic, 
when you pucker your lips over my barrel,
and moan some sounds like:
you love me, or, you loathe me.
whatever, it doesn’t matter, because
yeah- you know, it’s too erotic,
when your eyes whisper to stop, 
but your lips quiver like an addict.

so, now you have become even harder to understand. 
so, now you have become even harder to comprehend.
when all I offer is a mouthful of that gleaming, grey metal. 
when all you show is angelic crying and devilish grinning, 
like that’s one normal gesture- 
like this is one normal relationship.

yeah- you know, you’re so damn exhilarating,
the way your doughy eyes can gild your pain, 
whenever my rope grinds too deeply into your skin. 
yeah- you know, you’re so damn entrancing, 
when you’re tied too tight,
and all your delicate curves bulge out, enticing,
begging for any attention. any attention i’ll 
greedily give. 

but you cluck your tongue to recapture my attention,
and beyond that inch or two of glinting black,
i hear words i imagine as – ‘you’re my jesus.’
or maybe, ‘you’re my judas.’ 
whatever, it doesn’t matter.
because now i see your eyes return to holding me hostage,
and now i see myself  confused  and writhing in ecstasy 
inside the brilliance of your dragon fire - all consuming
the best of me.
 
i am twice enamored by your hurt beauty,
i am thrice overwhelmed by your mirror paradox:
that helpless way in which your expression begs for freedom. 
versus, that exotic way your form begs to be constrained…

…then, when i feel myself about to burst,
    you know its your turn.
    i untie you so you can tie me tight,
    and you don’t wait a second before you
    thrust that gun into my mouth…

                      i loathe you.
                      i love you.
                      i loathe you.
                      i love you. 

06-08-06
M. L. Michael

About…

Thorns on a rose

Mayhap she knew, mayhap she did not,
She was the apple of my eye, or
A fruit called obsession, ripe yet firm
And plump ready for pluckin’.
Her eyes reminding me of our first date,
Hide-n-Seek in downtown drunk lit alleys,[…]

Mayhap she knew, mayhap she did not,
She was the apple of my eye, or
A fruit called obsession, ripe yet firm
And plump ready for pluckin’.
Her eyes reminding me of our first date,
Hide-n-Seek in downtown drunk lit alleys,
Stalking the night as I whispered her gifts,
Lurking behind the intimacy of a pole…

Mayhap she felt, mayhap she did not, 
The alcohol sting of our chemical romance,
Stealing her conscious like she stole my heart,
Falling into my arms like she fell into my Reality.
“Stop,” I tell her doll eyes, “we’re moving too fast.”
As she dreams of our wedding, and children to be,
I kiss her chloroform lips, I savor her taste.
Thanking God for my luck in such savory a catch….

Mayhap she struggled, mayhap she did not,
When her Reality returned in bondage and hungover.
Sobbing her joy, wailing her passion, in her room
Of black and white snapshots, wallpapering her in.
Private moments selflessly shared for my film.
These days, days, in a daze… oh, how love confines,
And wilts the vibrancy from my angel’s face,
These days, days, in a daze… oh, how cruel love carries on…

M. L. Michael
06-13-05