Without a doubt "Sensual Musings". But then again blogger is my sexual outlet, so I would obviously choose something erotic. All of you writing is beautiful so anything would be amazing.
Are you kidding? This is possible? I've been dreaming of doing this. Oh, oh, the first I read of you...leather...oh, it's not recent...where is it...I'll get the title and bring it back.
My goal is to do the audio for sensual musings today. Erotic postings are always the most nuanced and difficult to read. The line between authenticity and just plane cheesiness is very fine for the words were written in a certain frame of mind and can only be read when again in that same frame of mind. I also need quiet in the house, which under my current house arrest is harder and harder to find. So with a bit of luck, I'll post the podcast soon.
I don't want your aroma trapped beneath your cloth. I want it to stamp the air between us. I want to luxuriate in it, its apparition. I want it to smoke my pores.
as autumn of trees, my limbs bare. The day's signature upon my flesh, of the walk through the park, of wood and graphite, and ink of india; of vellums and parchments; of Neruda and Laux still upon my fingers, upon my lips, upon my mind. Breathe my day. Hold it within your eyes, your touch. Read my light and shadow as a letter of pen, sealed of wax. Know me of nose, of my morning of rain and my afternoon of hardwood and leather. Tell me what you see . . .
I see only with these hands, see as they covet the Egypt of your flesh, limbs stretched as dunes before me, fingertips march with the heat of ten unrepentant suns upon you, they linger, embellish, burn me as continents into you, the undulating plains of your belly swell and fall, like ancient reigns and ruins, as my breath, nearing you, runs its peril against you, I see only with these lips, see as they flame the wonders of your civility, with an uncivilized thirst for you, your salt, mining the tears of every kingdom you've ever erected in praise of lips, without the wind or wild of me. I see only with this touch, see the Nile of your need, the god risen pure in your regal skin, then kneel as the flautist, at the glyph of your throne.
17 comments:
Without a doubt "Sensual Musings". But then again blogger is my sexual outlet, so I would obviously choose something erotic. All of you writing is beautiful so anything would be amazing.
I'm with Cande!!!
:)
Cande and LotL, thanks for the suggestion. Got it first on the list.
Are you kidding? This is possible? I've been dreaming of doing this. Oh, oh, the first I read of you...leather...oh, it's not recent...where is it...I'll get the title and bring it back.
(of leather remembered) My first read here. It poured itself into me, this one, and stayed with me, your language.
But of course, I wouldn't be adverse to Sensual Musings either.
erin
Erin, I've actually already recorded that post. You can find it here:
My Podcasts
Enjoy :-)
My goal is to do the audio for sensual musings today. Erotic postings are always the most nuanced and difficult to read. The line between authenticity and just plane cheesiness is very fine for the words were written in a certain frame of mind and can only be read when again in that same frame of mind. I also need quiet in the house, which under my current house arrest is harder and harder to find. So with a bit of luck, I'll post the podcast soon.
You should return to that frame of mind ... often.
I'm open to suggestions.
A duet?
I'm open minded. Very.
I know. That's what I like about you.
Take off your shirt...
I don't want your aroma trapped beneath your cloth. I want it to stamp the air between us. I want to luxuriate in it, its apparition. I want it to smoke my pores.
Take off your shirt...
as autumn of trees, my limbs bare. The day's signature upon my flesh, of the walk through the park, of wood and graphite, and ink of india; of vellums and parchments; of Neruda and Laux still upon my fingers, upon my lips, upon my mind. Breathe my day. Hold it within your eyes, your touch. Read my light and shadow as a letter of pen, sealed of wax. Know me of nose, of my morning of rain and my afternoon of hardwood and leather. Tell me what you see . . .
I see only with these hands, see as they covet the Egypt of your flesh, limbs stretched as dunes before me, fingertips march with the heat of ten unrepentant suns upon you, they linger, embellish, burn me as continents into you, the undulating plains of your belly swell and fall, like ancient reigns and ruins, as my breath, nearing you, runs its peril against you, I see only with these lips, see as they flame the wonders of your civility, with an uncivilized thirst for you, your salt, mining the tears of every kingdom you've ever erected in praise of lips, without the wind or wild of me. I see only with this touch, see the Nile of your need, the god risen pure in your regal skin, then kneel as the flautist, at the glyph of your throne.
I am the womb of your millenium.
Take off your shirt...
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