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Sightless Struggle Sightless StruggleSightless Struggle by ~stephenhclarkjr
What is a blind man to do when
he needs something he never knew?
An aimless search through a perilous
world. No one to guide him to a
something he can't describe. He
meets many on his journey, unwilling
to help, too absorbed in their own
lives and problems.
"How can a blind man search?" They
question his abilities and intuition.
"What are you looking for? Its form
and structure?" He shakes his head and
shrugs his shoulders. "I just know
it's something I have to find. Someone
please help." They shun him, writing off
his existence as a minor nuisance.
His outreached hand batted away.
He sits upon a b
Sensual Notions-The Bistro -Sensual Notions/The BistroSensual Notions-The Bistro by ~stephenhclarkjr
Sitting in a quaint bistro,
sipping a mocha latte, nibbling
a baguette, a sense of lust
overtakes you, compelling you
to lift your eyes from your
newspaper or your bourgeois
little magazine. You give in
and that is when you noticed
her walking in. As your eyes
glide up her legs, you think a
bit less about your paper. As
your eyes wander over her
bountiful bosom, you bite a
bit less of your baguette. As
you imagine running you fingers
through her hair, you lessen your
grip on the cup. As you gaze into
her eyes, you lessen your grip on
reality. As you watch the rhythmic
rocking of her rear, y
Separation Anxiety -Separation AnxietySeparation Anxiety by ~stephenhclarkjr
He walks along a cliff's edge,
head hung low on his shoulders.
Loneliness teases him to jump,
give his soul to the ether, but
he hears a voice, soft and
delicate, across the cliff.
"Don't jump! You don't need to
jump!" He raises his eyes from
the perpetual night and meets
with hers. They share a smile,
they share some words, they share
their lives. As they walk, they
look for a way to cross over, to
be next to each other, to start
their lives not as individuals,
strangers, but as friends, lovers.
They come to the end of this
never-used path, he notices that
there is no bridge, no crossing,
only th
Craving -CravingCraving by ~stephenhclarkjr
The fangs of the incubus are out
and I am on the prowl. Skulking
through the jet black nocturne,
craving the warmth of the female
shape. I am that tangible heat that
you feel as you stroll wearily down
that dark boulevard, caressing your
shoulders, flowing through the
strands of hair, connected to the
recesses of the mind. I am that
incomprehensible chill you feel in
your nerves, the shiver of your
frame, the tingle in your toes.
Keep your eyes open on me, or
I will overwhelm your imagination
with tenderness and desire.
Sta.sh
--
i like to make art.