Ready # 1

I want to give you things for your restless.

Not places to wander but places to move against,
friction like calloused thumb against zipper,
teeth moving against the tender places of neck
and inner thigh
that want to bleed out
in suicidal abandon.

I want to open against you again.
That slow quick slow quick heart beat pulsing through
pushing into the
underneath
lizard brain wakes in this knowing of you
primal and focused on just this thing
needing it's way now.

Needing to feel the hunger bloom up between us like the flame hissing
on a quick strike kitchen match
that fuck the foreplay take your pants down, quick quick, closer closer, where's the skin,
where are you, no where are you really, where's the spot- there and now and yes and more
Always more. We are gluttons for skin
drunk on the fucking, hooked on the buzz of dangerous chemistry we can't decipher
stuck on edges that ask for something softer but cannot wait
licking at the broken bits, staring into the unabashed truth
unafraid though we should be

We just keep going- through all those wide open spaces
through the secrets, and old places underneath
we head straight to the dirty places
low and base like littered dark alley ways
sticky and ripe and full of  puddles and grease and rutting and face down hard on fucking
to exhaustion.

Till we are sweat soaked and bleeding
wet and wrung out and no damned good anymore
and I want that too, that exhaustion all the way through
from too much, from again and from more, from the hair pulling
and tugging from the fighting our way to whose on top
the flip, the switch, the sting and the beauty of every single thing
taken, tasted, used and abused till we are empty ache muscles burning
breathing hard but barely able to move as we sleep, our dreams restless
still, moving from place to place waiting, listening to our slow breathing
waiting for more.