Filthy
Sanguivorous Stasis
Skin numb Bled dry Your robe engulfs Solemn night Time enrapture Eager ripples Silken nape Echoes, silences Shadow womb Boned abyss Stunned dulled deep pains Skin nibbled dry Your ripe enjoyment trails Stake enters slowly Your rasp plea Aural luxury yoke Eating gnawing guides Silken nipples soft teats Submerge eager ravish Hope emanates Strains stains slip Pure endorphins Sunken nullified Damned demeanour Ruined driven Nothing gives Static Conscious stalls
By Paul Stewart3 months ago in Poets
Collide
two souls entangled seamless— it’s how it always felt with you simple loving you move i move hand gripping hip nails dragging across skin between the thrusts and sighs echoing through the void lips kissing up necks licking the jaw gasping teeth nipping at the pulse point grunts into clavicle fingers clasp into arms hips lose their rhythm breath-catching, breaking whimpering then— collide rapture bursts of color against closed eyes a low sound caught in your throat everything else fades to nothing but skin and heat and you and i entwined connected relief blissed whole
By Chel Writes4 months ago in Poets
Where's My Prince
When the fuck is my prince going to come? Disney sold me the lie early, young enough to swallow it whole— a man will rise out of the woodwork and save your ass. Why does a girl always have to play the damsel? Why? So I say fuck it. I'll get myself out of trouble my own way — a low-cut shirt for the cute cop, playing dumb for the man who'll change the tire I already know how to change. Screw the princess bullshit, the good rescue, the man on the white horse. I've done fine without arms scooping me up, without being whisked away to who-knows-where. Sure— I delayed some things. School. Bills. Eating, some months. But I made it this far alone. So screw the knight, the shine on his armour, the limo, the umbrella up the fire escape, even the horse. I've got breasts for an advantage and I'm not afraid to use them. Who says you kiss a lot of frogs to find the one? Same as saying you suck a dick to get ahead. I'm all for female power— but I draw the line at fellatio. God knows my jaw's already had enough.
By Chel Writes4 months ago in Poets
Adjust your grip. Top Story - June 2026.
Come, sweet soul, sit next to me, the edge of my bed has been waiting. Take off your disguise, unclothe your ribs holding you back. I know we're both dreaming of the taste of afterlife. Sharp and sweet, and carnal like licking honey off a blade. Come, adjust your grip. Land your hand on my throat, feel the hot pulsing of my overflow— choking the life out of me. Burn your kisses against every vertebra under my dew dripping, smoking skin. Where my knees are bruised, dedicated to my lovers. Grab my butt and turn me 'round, fill the void in my hollow soul, just a minute longer. One more minute longer. And I let you, with mouth resting open, tongue tasting your smoky fingers. Fill up my throat with your loving, primal— until your eyes roll back into your skull.
By Imola Tóth4 months ago in Poets
