Tag: love

assorted simple adjectives

(for mild-to-moderate foot fetishism)

A random poem about a sexy pair of socked feet.

some folks like it between their pits
and others like
the smell of their own shit –
as hard as i try,
i just can’t fight this feeling anymore:
i want you first with your socks on tight.

yes that’s right:
little pink ankle socks
for a grown woman’s lady feet,
bought wholesale
because they were cheap –
to see you soleless without your flats
left this man right out of breath.
i’ve never been a foot guy
but yours’ can’t be beat –
i want to watch you take them off
to turn up this winter heat.

can’t be beat,
up this heat,
this is a poem
about your cute feet.

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Video: …that kind of thing

A Short Narrative Film

“An Art School loser has an existential crisis.”

Produced in 2010 //wd

Management would like to acknowledge & thank the participation of the involved, for their assistance in producing the above feature.

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Video: the look of love

A Safe-for-Work Art Film

“Two youths share separate but all-too-familiar stories of love, lust, infatuation, and loss.”

Produced in 2010 //wd

Management would like to acknowledge & thank the participation of the involved, for their assistance in producing the above feature.

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fair enough

A poem.

i see your resignation
and i feel your frustration
but yours’ is not a unique situation:

that way you remember, all those
years ago,
when you look in the face of your daughter and you see
how her mother looked back at you like Anya Taylor-Joy
looks over her shoulder at Edgar Wright
when he needs her to do one-more-take of guarded plight,
just like she thought she might
when she graced the cover of a Shyamalan fright:

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a reminder

A poem.

we sat side-by-side the other day –
so close and yet so far away,
and i could see the sunlight reflected off your steely-blue eyes
as i wondered if you even knew i drew breath.
so many sleepless nights, drained but restless
wishing i had your body against mine –
because i believed you alone could soothe me,
mitigate me,
love me and my touch
this time.

but i’ve been wrong before.

so like a thief i’ve stolen what i could
to fuel a fantasy that would.
your face, your look –
the freckles that dot like weathered wood.
placing you in-phase with others who came before,
dreaming that maybe i could enjoy those times more.
your life continues
and mine stands ignored.
i have to move on. i do.

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