Traci

I have a friend named Traci. Occasionally she hooks shit up:

http://poemgame.blogspot.com/2010/08/for-seamus.html

She presented herself unannounced, and took me by surprise.

I had been waiting for her, and still she managed to bewilder me.

The truth is I was desperate for her.

I had been waiting for this moment for months; long, hot, summer months drenched in the type of haze and humidity caused by longing and desire. I had been longing for and desiring her for so long I struggled to maintain composure before her now.

We had a history. I first tasted her when I was barely 18 and have been helpless since. There had been affairs in exotic locales across the globe. Staying out late in her arms and sneaking out early to see her whenever she called had left victims. Commitment to family, education, work and lovers all faltered under her undeniable spell.

I would do anything to have her, a fact she knew all too well, mercilessly taking me for all my worth.

She was dangerous. She had the power to erode landscapes, alter climates, float dreams and destroy them with the depth of her passion.

Her mood was unpredictable. There were moments when she became approachable, and these were the moments I lived for. Even when she would have me, there was no telling how long it would last. Our affairs had lasted minutes, hours, weeks and the longest, a month. Each one was drastically different and according to her insatiable temperament. History should have taught me lessons, but she always left me craving her caress once more. This time was no different.

I was standing before her on the beach. The sun had set. Anyone who was around had gone home to supper with loved ones or loneliness without. There was nobody but us.

In the dusk, we embraced. I tasted the salt on her; immersed myself in her touch; dove beneath and inside of her; slipping away on waves of lust and love; trying hard to keep up, keep pace, keep her satisfied.

The stars came out. It was twilight.

I could not stay with her, she would not have it. I would never survive in her world, a vicious truth she never let me forget.

I returned home both exhausted and exhilarated. I lay awake dreaming of her. I did not sleep.

At the first sign of light, I returned to the beach where we had been together the night before. Sure enough, she was waiting for me.

It is my sole belief that no man could ever conquer her. She takes and takes and takes. If I am lucky, or perhaps unlucky depending on the point of view, she gives just enough to make me forget all her taking, and she takes some more.

For two more days I was rendered useless to anyone but her. I would say goodbye to her in the morning and drift hopelessly in thoughts of her until I saw her again that evening.

For two more days our bodies collided in lovers’ bouts. My muscles ached; my flesh became raw, and skin chafed. I gave her everything stored up inside of me and more. I was spent.

There was something lovely about feeling broken by her. I wanted to give her everything. I wanted her to break me. I was spent. My body was done. I could take no more. I had nothing left to give. I was no longer any use.

She had her way, as she always has and always will. And for the time being, I said goodbye to her -- my lover, the Sea.

FVWTBT

The young man stared out at the vista before him.

He was reclined on the balcony in a chair of wood and canvas.

His view, except when interrupted by linen curtains blowing with the wind off the mountain, was of lush hillside, flowing into valley, and into the Caribbean Sea.

He was listening. He heard the fantastic melodies of birds; the dogs barking; steel drums and reggae playing; crickets chirping; children yelling; mothers fretting; and faintly, he heard thunder rumbling.

Listening was different than hearing, however, and the young man heard all those things but listened to none.

He was listening to her.

Communication on the verge of breakdown, both of them were becoming desperate in the face of a dreadful delay on the line.

They had settled on abandoning conversation, for the sake of just listening.

As he listened to her doing nothing but breathe, his view changed.

He was now focused inward, no longer staring at the sea that seperated him from her.

A display was being witnessed.

On the balcony railing before him, a lizard had appeared. A male Green Anole, the reptile began an elaborate performance. In commanding fashion, the lizard puffed out its throat to reveal the fiery passion inside. Red scales, projecting from green; a natural mechanism of unadulterated showmanship.

He stared, always listening to her breathing, as the island turned to gold. He was now watching another magnificent display courtesy of the sun.

As if the sun saved the best for last everyday, it saved this evening hour for a dose of the most spectacular light on tap.

He watched the sun's last display before it set behind the mountain.

Still listening to her in the fading light, he watched a storm on the ocean.

Another display.

He had just said goodnight to her when a ferociously brilliant bolt of lightning cut the horizon.

Sparks were flying across the sea.

He knew what was required, and promptly booked a plane ticket.

It was time for the young man to put on a display
.

god damn sexy kyle e

this is kyle e:these are some of his photos. welcome to romance the sea kyle.
guinea bissau and nobody out- like most days
some gay art shit

eastern canada
eastern canada
yours truly, seeking shelter from the strong nova scotian sun
arabia. or so he says.

Sicko

1 Morning with Ryan Carlson from David Lee Scales on Vimeo.