the night is so short . . . why is so much of it wasted?
tossed away without a thought or care
discarded like a used condom
flushed in a blink

daylight demands your armor
makeup, business suits
put on your game face
smile the lie

night is for undressing, letting go
open your heart and mind
drop your shields
penetrate

can you feel the slow spread of shadow
the easing tension and building need
it lays the world out before you
open wide,
limbs flung apart,
head thrown back
long line of flesh
poised upon your alter
trembling under your hands

ready

willing

aching

balanced

anticipating

craving

your first brutal plunge
the wild reckless ride
slip and slide, push and pull
fingers slipping gripping
nails ripping scratching
keening whine and squeal
grunts and wails
the final cry
when the devil soars with angels

and night closes in as you lie beached
on the shore of your passion
gobbling the echoes
swallowing you down
as you chest heaves
and heart beats like
trapped doves in your head

the sweat cools on your naked skin
traffic twinkles behind the blinds
a hand creeps up to brush your hair from your face
and the hum of appliances lulls you to sleep . . .