Limp

fig-leaf-1657854_1920

You’re tiring of me

Quick as quick

I can already feel the limpness in your dick.

What a pity. What a shame.

The fire between us , isn’t eternal flame.

So, so sad. So, so tragic.

That I can no longer work my magic.

‘Treat you mean and keep you keen’?

A kick to the guts? A jab to spleen?

Must I really become a shard

In order for you to get hard?

Screw it. Let this thing end

Before we are no longer friends.

(c) Slumpless

Advertisements

Inch

wings-1940245_1920

This thing?

Is not a casual fling.

Not for me.

I’ll make you see. I will make you love me.

I want the bones of you.

The sleepy iridescent pools of blue

The moving tides of your beautiful blood.

The bad. The good,

I want the unfurling, uncurling length and breadth of you.

I will make you love me.

This heat of mine can’t help but yearn.

It will singe the sockets and pockets of your soul.

I’m more than whore. Isn’t everyone?

You already like me a little.

You’ve already given an inch ..inches.

But in a while .. I’ll get the mile.

(c) Slumpless

What’s The Point?

puppy-384647_1920

What is a biscuit made, without you  to taste it?

Sheets changed without you to loll in their fresh glory?

What is a dance in the kitchen

Without you to tease me.. please me.

A walk in the woods

How is it made good?

Tell me this. Tell me more.

I beg. I implore.

I cannot see the point without you.

Lots of dark clouds. No blue.

But sometimes when I stop and taste the soup

Smell the candle burning

I stop yearning.

(c) Slumpless

This Closure

mary-pickford-1963155_1920

Just promise me you won’t be cruel

When the time comes to sever these threads

You won’t turn us to shreds.

I look at your face as I lie on your chest

And hope for the best.

But I’ve done this before

And the cut was pure gore, sore.

Please. Please. No more.

So be gentle as you are now

When you lick my leg

Make me beg.

Promise that when you no longer long for this touch

That when I don’t mean much

Or nothing.

Just promise you’ll be kind.

And I promise I won’t linger

I won’t be a loser

If I have proper closure.

(c) Slumpless

Forget it

architecture-2557442_1920

I forgot to say I love you

Forgot to show you the true blood that runs in these veins.

I omitted to kiss you

My hands hovered close to your back but never made contact.

There was a wall you see?

Between you and me

All the bricks are made of things unsaid and over said

Dig. Dig. Dig.

We built that wall.Made its foundation.

But not side by side

We dug at each other.

The dirt spreading out around us.

When did you move to the other side?

I wish memories were paintings that I could hang on this wall

Then maybe it would fall and so would we.

Back when touching you was as easy as the breeze.

Back to when you were on your knees

But so was I.

And we stared at the sky instead of the stone.

When I didn’t feel alone.

Let’s put away our spades

Let’s stop our excavation

Because all we’ll find are bones

And they’re best left to the soil

Not for us to toil

Over.

(c) Slumpless

 

Bigger than me

baltic-sea-1367195_1920

I lost her to the sea

To something bigger than me

To a pull that would never leave her standing

To a depth that knows no landing

No end. No end.

This pain. This pain.

I’ve lost her to the waves to the roar

To the shipwreck at their shore

I’ve lost my maiden I’ve lost her well

To that navy blue ominous swell.

(c) Slumpless

Self-flagellation

I’m a lost cause 

The same mistakes over and over

Addicted to the error

Flagellated by the outcome

Just for a taste of sublime wrong

I sing old songs

I get on my own nerves

So I suppose I deserve this

All of this.

And yet maybe I’m making small changes each time

To the words. To the rhyme.

Enough so that I can live with myself.

And maybe all these little changes

Will alter the big picture

And my mistakes will stand up tall and will no longer quiver

And there will come a day when I won’t consider them flaws when I will hit pause and see

That all these things are just part of me

And that the whip I use to beat myself

Is not made of leather but only words

But oh those words can sting

They can cause such harm

Built of old ways and old fears

Ancient rivers sodden with tears.

Tears that no longer run true

But still manage to soak

To turn me into sop.

To muddled mess with dying fish floating at the surface.

I need to set myself free. I need to run to sea.

To disperse into bigger things

To lose my concentration.

Then maybe if I really don’t over think.

I will float instead of …

(C)Slumpless