Someone calls this place "home"When they return from being far awayFrom the twisting, winding roadsAnd the lights that flash at night.The same lights that reflect over the great lake,The lights that bring the ships to sleep,Those lights are guiding someone home.The winding roads that scale the hill,The mountain, the canyon, what have you...Cars zip by and twist and turn,Taking their drivers back home.As the night sky appears and the stars arrive,People forget to look out their windowsAt the great city beneath them.Ogle for a moment.Take it all in.This is your home, you are here every day,But what of the life below?
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Jessica Snow
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Animal
The scream of a wild cougarCan be heard in the bedroomConcerning the neighbors andMaking quite the scene.Her body twitches and convulsesWith every touch of her master's hand,Awakening her every sense.Her sense of desire, her sense of need,Her craving for the unknown and uncommon.Her bloodthirsty cries fill the airAnd cover the bed with each squirmAs she begs and screams, her soul being nourished.The cougar, the wolf, the beasts residing insideAll become unleashed, rampaging her coreAs the claw of the dominant beast slowlyCarves its way softly over her supple flesh.Hair a mess, skin painted with lines ofRed indents and welts,She looks to her predator through dampened hairAnd smiles. Thanking him with her eyes.The inner beast growls and thirsts,No longer prey, but leading her own packOf mischief, erotica, and pain.Sweet, sweet pain.
By Jessica Snow6 years ago in Poets
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