Sta.sh
| Random drabbles that I spit out every now and again. More can be found at my fic community on LiveJournal @ eightducks. |
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Renaissance Man Sometimes, I think I should paint youRenaissance Man by ~Modern-Prufrock
in your pure-white and your blood-red,
like a saint who has been betrayed and martyred.
Between the sheets I show you men together
because you are not young now, and I do not feel guilty.
When you are gone, a little devil plays in my ear instead
to keep me from thinking about the humid nights
when you made me feel like I was twenty again.
There's blood on you, and you manage to smile anyway.
I count each one of your scars with light lips,
feel in them the burn of responsible revenge.
I don't play for either team, but I would play for yours
if you would give me one more taste of
what it is tha
Schism The oil has spilled, and I still can't believe you made me drink it.Schism by ~Modern-Prufrock
It's hot in these stone walls, like the desert,
and your hands are on my burned-sand skin,
your lips kiss the edge of my missing arm.
I hear the husk in your voice,
a sweet flavor, a refined one now,
one that surfaces from your cold demeanor
only after I have denied you with a sharp tongue.
I wonder if you wonder if I am mapping you
as I map the Eastern cities
when I run my fingers across your scars.
The one on your lip, it whispers to me
in the dry, hot air of a moonless night.
I still hate you, some days.
And then still, some days, I find myself enamored
by
Make Love II You are so young, but ohMake Love II by ~Modern-Prufrock
how I want to ruin you
all for myself, just me.
I'll make a beast out
of you, puppy, with my experience.
Loving you soft, tender, slowly,
loving you fast and quick
after you bite my lip and say, "More."
In the dark, there's still
some light left in you,
a sweet white that I can
drink again and again, a light
that rejuvenates my old and cold ways.
I'm ill when I'm done. You are much too sweet.
Kamil 2 Kamil had watched the white man's shop for a good portion of the day, coming and going here and there with chores, or friends, or brothers. The strange flag of a foreign land billowing across the doorway taunted him, sneered at him with its lion crest and white background consumed with blood-red lines. The blistering Indian sun was slowly sinking below the mud-stone buildings when Kamil stopped outside of the shop.Kamil 2 by ~Modern-Prufrock
He frowned.
The last thing he thought their people needed was a white devil taking up shop here, selling who knows what, selling some odd form of Christianity, some blasphemous Western symbol of the Son of God, some flimsy scroll
| Random drabbles that I spit out every now and again. More can be found at my fic community on LiveJournal @ eightducks. |
