Pleasure Is Measured In Presence

The bed and it’s room
is no place for the computer to cast it’s shadow over your eyes
My thighs and universe in between
no place for carelessness, half truth, and lies
Pleasure is measured in presence
A place of vulnerable posture held by caress
moved further to openness
I let you in deeper
through fear
The stars of my inner night guide you
The story of these constellations
Passing expressions
remain in memory long after the taste of your sweat has left my lips
Alone now
No light in the bed or it’s room
Inside myself
Closed eyes
Thighs wide
Tongue traces the lips it protrudes from
The taste of my sweat
Pleasure is measured in presence
Oneness the O in Ohhmm
The mmm in orgasm
I leave myself breathless
And rest in peace

A Night Out

Let me make this clear. I DO NOT get dressed up to look this good for you.

I know I look smokin hot but I am not here to impress you or get with anyone. If you try to creep on me; if you touch another girl on this dance floor without her permission; if you “accidentally” brush my breasts one more time I will kick your ass you sorry, lazy, lonely, entitled, small minded, motherfucker.

I came here to dance – to have fun, relieve stress and move my body, not to give you a hard on.

I am tired of being told by security and management that I just need to tell them to leave me alone. Fuck you. As management it is YOUR RESPONSIBILITY to make sure that women feel safe at your establishment. If someone complains about harassment or if you are actually doing your job and notice harassment then you need to escort the perpetrator out immediately. If he had a gun he would be taken out, but since he is touching and grabbing girls it is my job to tell him to stop? I call bullshit.

I should be able to dance how I want, wearing however little I want BY MYSELF without being harassed.

Eve Who Ate the Apple

I am that black velvet
blue ink sky of silent solitude.
Yes, my whisper is that toneless breath on the wind.
A truth speaking louder than words.
And yes,
my night will swallow you.
Devour you,
The unspoken song of a woman confined by the roles placed upon our bodies by men.
By those without sight, wisdom, nor intuition.
Yes, we see this all, a shadowy, hazy vision,
and stand by to make way for your falling stars
Captured in our open hands, still swollen from the endless throb of
our taboo sexuality.