The Trojan Poem by Rickardo BecklesBurrowes

Door closed, legs opened
boots on, t-shirt pulled ever so slowly off.
Candles crumble, smoke watching enthralled
as sweat creeps across nipples,
heat hovering between tender lips
a finger pinching, scratching, investigating closer.
Eyes close to the sound startled - silent
for a moment in time, where fantasy becomes unexpected -
back to forth, till thunder rages volcanic,
thoughts of discipline, laced with hunger rush
wild words dripping drunkenly from our mouths.
Wet invasion of touch this messenger delivers,
drugged into soft dirty places. Neck jerks suddenly -
“don't deny me” cries this eruption.
Now, alone - drunk on sensitive beams charging forth,
for an insurrection settling the war across my body
saying finally, “confess, confess”.



Taken from 'X'.