For one week, I typed out poems on my phone while touching myself. Yes, seriously. This book contains the unedited result - 30 poems of various lengths about sexual fantasies, musings on sex, and dreams of an ideal mate. It is a poetry book unlike any other - an unflinching look through a perverted subconscious, of desire flirting with darkness, of thoughts too all-consuming to be left off the page. Raw Nerve. Sudden Thrust. Warm Embrace. The symphony of self-pleasure.
WARNING: Contains explicit descriptions of sex, masturbation, and rampant fantasizing in a stream-of-consciousness. Some mild violence, various fetishes, and dubcon.
-EXCERPT-
12)
sex is a beautiful trap.
the pleasure, the fantasy, the ceremony draw us in.
but what feels the best slams shut the cage,
and inside we spawn.
genitals as perfectly designed to create life
as they are to receive pleasure.
they trick us into becoming parents.
if it didn't feel so good,
i wonder if we would still fall for it.
thank goodness it does.
thank goodness we do.
transmuting lust into love.
climax into creation.
two into three.
18)
i am pleasure's slave.
when i was young, i clamped her shackles on my wrists,
then thrust through my hand.
i haven't stopped since.
i can't stop.
i wouldn't have it otherwise.
my master gives me joy.
i give her my essence.
that was our contract.
she drains me,
takes my life,
then allows it to regenerate
just so i can give it to her again.
i wonder if it was ever mine.
no - it's always been hers.
and it's my destiny to give it.
forever.
there is no escape.
my debt will never be paid.
my master gets what she wants.
she always will.
i love her like my chains.
and i'm every bit as hard.
***
