Lust. | Teen Ink


February 26, 2010
By abbystartsriots SILVER, Turner, Maine
abbystartsriots SILVER, Turner, Maine
9 articles 0 photos 4 comments

Favorite Quote:
"They sicken of the calm who know the storm." (Dorothy Parker)

I'm so thirsty. I could drink every drop, drop, drop. I'd be parched still even when all the faucets come to a stop stop stop. This cup runneth over, but I am not assuaged. My tongue craves, craves your lips the way night craves dawn. The way it won't be long until sunlight burns through fog; the way life yearns to skip the prologue. Pages, cages, empty- I refuse to hope; I refuse to prepare. Instead, instead, instead never forget-rope, water, and air, I will tread tread tread. And you, too, my dear, I dare.

You push me down and drench me, quench me. Sweetly first, shower me with tender whispered steam. Then make anxious ardent strong, your fingers. Please linger. Make me crave, plead, ache for the way you say my name, and drink drink drink my spine all backwards enflamed. Caress caress caress my hair, mouth, skin and don't even try to tame my mess of rose pedal hips, lips time won’t wither thin. I won’t be done until we’ve made our mark, our mark, mark today, and freed time from its cage. No more torture ticking tedium-shame shall go numb. The world, you proclaim, will never be the same. My throat: raving, burning, fuelled. This thirst, this thirst is cruel. Words from you quench me, drench me. I am, you are, we be.

I'm racing inside. Pour me a cup of life that flows flows over and doesn't abide. Fill me up, throw me down, live with me so quickly. So quickly, so quickly, live with me, live with me. We are futile, fleeting, so don’t think, don’t think. I've danced so unbridled. To the brink, to the brink, and I'll burst from this waiting. I won't wait to create, won’t skate with an idle fate, so stay awake; so listen-put your ear to the ground and tell me I’m like water. Like water. Like water. Let's swim until we drown, and make ravenous, animal sounds. There is nothing but now. There is nothing but now...

The author's comments:
This is an experimentation with rhythm, and repetition. I'd like this to be classified as prose poetry.

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