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Your fingers dip below my waist,
traveling at a sensuous pace.

The lower you go,
my anticipation builds.
My heart beats faster
bracing for the thrill.

Your touch has me moaning,
begging for more.
Your hot passionate kisses;
I simply adore.

I feel it,I feel you,
as I crest on high.
Only you can take me,
on this incredible ride.

Baby, do it again,
and again and again
I never get enough
of this delightful sin.
 Oct 2018 Possum living
erin
satyr 1
 Oct 2018 Possum living
erin
i think i often represent the butterfly i so often speak of
frail and weak in every step- my plain brown wings are just like the papery disgusting skin i want so badly to break out of, revealing my clearwinged beauty. but i've adapted to this form- i've changed. who cares for being disgusting- better to simply scare away the predators with my big nose and buggy eyes. who cares for being unloved- i do, for solitide is survival in this concrete jungle.
but i know better.
i am no graceful, gentle butterfly. satyrs are still lovely, despite being different, and i am not lovely. i know that these white wings cannot and will not be silenced. the beating drum behind me says otherwise. i am not butterfly. i am a falcon, and i do not dare hide behind a mask of a face. no-

i fight and claw my way out of it.
this is really more of a vent than a poem, but i still feel something important in it. i hope you enjoy.
Can't you see
that the fish was gasping for air?

For the sake of your lust,
wanting to have a triumphant end
to such a meaningless contest
you lure it from its world.

How could you inflicted that
on such innocent, lovely soul?
How could you treated its life
as if it is unworthy at all?
How could you even sleep
when you have wounded another soul?

Dead or alive,
you have no right
to irresponsibly acted in that way.

Ignorance, arrogance.

No regret, no guilt.


Yes, because you are all murderers!
 Oct 2018 Possum living
C
I could hear the echo of a ****** closing in, but from which direction
I could not for the life of me tell.
The caws and cries soothed my soul
And my eyes were closed,
So that I could immerse myself in a Yorkshire breeze
That gently brushed itself past the timeless trees.

With my wake came the crows
-Of which restored my sanity-
And each wingbeat brought yet another colour to the dusky sky,
As if time were something that could be carried.
A magpie,
A reminder of home,
Perched itself upon a fallen post and rattled furiously at how temporarily tranquil
I had become.

Then a charming mist made its way across the valley
But this only enhanced the clarity of my current surroundings.
The clouds in front of me began to wisp and merge like cigarette smoke against an ever-dimming lightbulb-
That reminds me,
I still need to get that fixed.

I noticed that my neighbours were cows,
Which I saw as a treat and a rarity,
Not in any way as a delicacy to be consumed and exploited for the good of humankind-
I digress.
Not the cows that I see everyday at, say, sixth form or in
Human form.
No, the cows that I usually see in packs
On supermarket shelves;
On butchers' racks
Before the people that behold them with hungry, selfish eyes.

As I gazed in this melancholy daze I knew that I would begin to miss the sight of those unsuspecting beasts from the minute I got back to where I was from-
To where I was born to live,
Unlike those in the fields that are
Born to die.
So then I swore to myself that I would never again
Look outside.
 Oct 2018 Possum living
nihiliti
clear as the empty sky
and deeper than the soul of mankind
all
the.
way..
down...

fathoming further than soundwaves
reach their molecular-minuscule hands
into the bluest abyss
below
so far below

but nothing grows
not in holy-bleached waters
baptized in plasma extracted
from our darkest hearts
invisible ink
leaving writing in the sand

walls between
underwater things and we
kings of the continent
shattered like
so much broken glass
ground and tumbled into
beads for our children to
choke on

drowning in empty seas
reaching, never believing
it could happen to us
burning acid dreams
diluted to seem
clear as can be
but we still can't see

the water we drink stinks...

rotten fish/rotten flesh
polluted streams/polluted seas
waste/wasted


death death death
drown drown
down


going.
going...

g (d) o n e --

undone by recycled demon-dreams
money for destroying everything
profit on the apocolypse
prophetically pathetic


(we deserve to drink these sins 'til we drop into the nothing we created)
We bleed our ignorance clearly.
Black is too much light
On a starry night.

He’s the one who lurks
Just on top of the street lamp’s light,
Above gazes that look up at cloudless skies and crescent moons.

Once, black was the comforting underside of a child’s blanket,
The closed-eyed darkness before dreams,
The glorious shadow of the day’s new moon.

Now, he spreads out of his bounds
Pulled out by the sprawl of the eternal lamp light.
And in the place of starlight,
Only darkness rules the night.
And here's a tribute to the effects of light pollution
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