Freewrite/stream of conscious
Helmut newtons bodies in velvet ropes and rooms of amber porcelain silk stocking three sheets to the wind hung candlesticks glinting sweaty windows of six foot tall love. see-through front covers and wrapping fags of woodbine pleasure sitting naked on velvet boxes with deals made in music drugstores on stages with bowties. knee's sore but pleasure gripped with the velvet ruby and amber nest with silly purples, sickly like an infant in a blaze of fields open to the winds where cameras take people on holidays of Amsterdam. We danced the cha cha till the feet broke poor velvet rugs never stood a chance for the yak from Peru needs a hug with the stars, as Tara Lynn and Albert E made out on Kat Dennings nipples like lions in the night surrounding the moon peoples watering-holes.
The new dawn.
Skinny, tail bushy
Awkward, but ready to learn.
Leaned his back into the velveteen,
watching us wrapping, mixing
movements and hidden moments. Till the
Sharing became shuddering.
Skinny begins to buckle, but firmly
led by me, the mage,
Amber Porcelain,
into silk stocking rooms.
Before he hits the floor, his clothes
are cornered. Knee’s sore
But pleasure gripped. We bite like lions
Birthing him into his second phase.
Alone,
I take his hands
Bring him to his feet,
Hold him clean.
Till sun-rise, softly,
We dance the cha cha.
