Her picture.

Undress my princess
Her inviting smile beckons my lust
Crimson lips
Eyes of simple trust.

Her heart controls me
Connections made in silent stands
Childish fantasies insane
Eternal desires of man.

Beauty bedevils the rights of hope
Pleasure seeks its hidden touch
Wanting smooth love alone
Or dreaming of shared lives, a want too much.

I tilt my head
Kiss her soft & slow
Stroking naked tender flesh
So no-one else will know.

Love, desire & an urgent sense of hunger
Brings her close in many ways of wonder
Foolish, imperfection throws happiness a bone
& bears poor witness in tears to the path he’s sown.

But guarded secrets tell of love he holds for her
& hopes to strip her down & extenuate her groans
Daily thread bare logic persists & warps
These strong desires inside to hear her moan.

Love or lust he can not tell
But face of angel beckons more
& daily fantasy behind these eyes
Illusions on her flesh he’ll draw.

Amusement held in unfettered bottles.

Ah!
The warm remedial taste of alcohol.
A sensation flowing through the chest of death.
Intoxicating dreams which surf along the waves of youth.
I drown.
& tales of life do not care.
I sing for you.
An illusion of such great fallacy that none shall know the truth!
& another swig.
Eyes which set themselves alight flutter in the darkness of the night.
& dreams of existential fashions collect within my mind.
& the feelings of someone’s naked body disappoints.
A girl of such honesty & prettiness that none will call her truth.
But in these nights of liquid desire, I drink her in with lust.
& succulent prepositional age & form will whimper in the night.
Small & callous are the nouns for this!
I drink.
A final desert of sweet Athenian nectar plays with me.
I smile.
In peevish anticipation of the world tomorrow & all its charms.
I saw my friends today.
& all who spoke lied!
As is the nature of man.
I stumble to the wrong room & fall beside her.
A naked man beside a naked princess.
Tears form in Amazonian flood as I perceive the danger of where I am.
I roll & stumble. A floor line trace is safer than inside the girl of my dreams.
& so I snore.
Fate has saved me from a prison cell indeed.
But heavy hand holds her wrist
& the thoughts of her are always there.
Unconscious sounds
& the days epiphany is that I should not drink again.
& I wont.
The bottle to which I fetched some fourteen minutes ago Is like my life upon this floor;
Empty & insured against a fateful death.
I bid you goodnight & sleep.

~ the downside to drink in the middle of the night.
© ed simkins