Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Stormy Eyes Invade The Winter's Night

I drempt about her
and her gray-blue eyes,
so haunting was this dream
that when I awoke in my chilly room
I went straight for the toilet across the hall
to toss out last night's midnight snack
of granola bars, chips and soda
only to dry heave for 5 minutes
with tears in my eyes from the physical pain
of waking up with a hard-on for an idiot
and having slept too long to have anything left
to toss out of me

Those gray-blue eyes sit just behind me now,
I find myself turning 'round to catch her staring
only to find nothing, not her smile or lisp,
just some person wondering
why the hell I look so damned confused

She invades my mind
in ways I'm sure I never invade her's,
I doubt she's ever gotten sick at the prospect
of going down on me like I did on her in this dream,
I'm sure she's never grown tired of memories
all about my touch, a footrub turned soaking wet panties
on a Christmas night no one else would spend with her,
at least not as tired as I've grown to her memories
that leave me with a bad taste in my mouth
that my mouth has never before known,
the taste of a girl equal parts beautiful and ugly,
beautiful when she's being ugly to herself
by moistening up her sweetest places for me,
ugly when she admits it's not out of love,
not out of liking me at all,
just boredom, then denial,
then procamations that I'm insane

I must be the crazy one
because somewhere in here,
in this twisted mess of me,
I still long to give her pleasure
when she doesn't even deserve the pain
of knowing how much I dislike her actions
and how willing I am, apparently,
to make her cum enough
to want to repeat them

© 2010 William A. Robertson (All Rights Reserved)