Planet Ezzie (3. Nightshine)

Photo by luizclas from Pexels

There is something about the night. I am a priest, crab, bitch, … creature of the night. I was before the succ-, sucker, blood-, before she came on the scene. I love a full swoon, balloon, um, moon. I’m not doing what she wants tonight, as you may be able to tell. I’m out in the back garden soaking in the moonrays, not on the street harvesting souls for her.

At midnight, I should make another attempt to rid myself of her, but that hasn’t worked before, so I don’t expect it to work now. In deference to my neighbors, I have a bikini on, but young Tommy from the house in back is still watching me out their back track, stack, Winnipeg, Wisconsin, Winnebago, … um, window. He is hoping that I’ll remove it all for midnight. He knows that I dribble … dabble, even if he is only 13. I’m not sure how. He has always watched me, since I moved in two years ago. Is that why he plays French Horn? I hear him practicing after school, if I’m around. He is infatuated with me, which is odd for someone his age, just short of puberty. Wait til the hormones kick in. I’ve never stripped down where he could see me. I’ve been careful about that. Maybe he is intrigued by the henna tattoos, which aren’t visible when I’m fully clothed.

The moonshine feels good on my bare skin. It somehow soothes my inner bunting, burning. The moon is my ally in this battle. In the symphony tonight, we played Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique, which is mostly about a man’s hallucinations, but includes the execution of a wench, err, witch at the fellows … gallows. It’s fun to play, but it the content always leaves me a little pendant, penchant, plainchant … grrr … pensive afterwards. I’m not that witch. I am not a witch. I am … something in between, and I revel in my between-ness. That is another reason I never fit in the coward, covers, … cavern, no … coven. I am a seagull in a world of ravens.

I wish I could fly. (She tells me I can, if I let her take over.) I guess I’ll remain rooted to the Earth.

10 of CUPS. Satiety.

I think I need to read this one reversed. I wasn’t very good about picking it up. It slipped out of my hand, and I can’t tell which way is up. (Some would say I’m always like that.) Reversed it indicates disconnection, misalignment, struggling relationships. Upright it can represent divine love … perhaps that is my moon mother watching over me.

I have no relationships now, except the hate-hate relationship with the succ-, succ- … you know the being that doesn’t disp- disp – doesn’t p-o-sS-E-Sh me. She sits in my lap, waiting for me to let my gourd, guard down.

Uh … uh …. ah ……. ahhhhhhhh

I don’t have to look at a clock to know that it’s midnight. She just reminded me who’s boss at the witching hour. I think I was floating several feet in the air, and my top came untied. Don’t worry, there wasn’t enough for Tommy to see, at least not from that distance. I came … err, came back to my senses before it slimed, slothed, slitted … damn! … slipped off. There isn’t much to see there anyway … well, that’s what I would have said a year ago. I’ve grown a cup-size since she comma, coma, came around. I haven’t changed my diet or my exercise regime, so it has to be up to her. I’m not any heavier, so it’s come from somewhere else. My waist?

I’m going to have to go to bed soon. I’m just getting tired of her lurid, naked, wild, sex, fantasy dreams.

Oh, to have an ordinary naked chase dream. One could only wish.

Caught in the Mirror

shot out of bed
like a bullet
when the alarm sang
can’t stop to think
no, not of…

I’ll regress
brush my teeth and hair
nightgown off

caught by my reflection
in the mirror he put up

I dreamt of him again last night
still feel his warmth, his love
his skin, still soft and young
after all these years
his heart mine

got to keep moving
before I’m compos mentos
must be on the road

caught by reflection
thinking of him

I’m useless with tools
so he put it up
the right tool for the right job,
he said
which one did I lack?

warm, no tights today
just t-shirt and sexy shorts
maybe he’ll see me

caught reflecting
lost in myself

I run to forget sometimes
to forget him
but my dreams bring him back
every time
but not in daylight

hot, sweaty back home
take it off, take it all off
cleanse myself, purge him

caught reflecting
remembering him

I remember him next to me
in the shower
where I do my best thinking
and my worst
he’s not there

start my day
must get to my work
don’t daydream

caught dreaming
of his reflection

it’s one of those days
I wait until the last possible moment
to put clothes on, but I relent
blue sweatshirt, jeans
all I need to work at home

apple breasts shown best
he always liked me in that
followed me up stairs

caught in my dream
of his touches

greeted by his email
my heart leaps, always does
it’s a drug, almost like sex
enough to make me whole
at least until I go to bed tonight

dream of him again
always of him next to me
naked as a babe

caught in a reflection
lying next to my dream

…and the wind whispers back

your name
softly whispered on the wind
green forever in all directions
meeting the sky
dark and brooding

I, your Goddess
naked in the grass
waiting for you
in a sultry drizzle
my storm is brewing

only I can take you there

echoing the distant thunder
my heart beats for you
I am hungry
the embodiment of desire
of passion

I summon you
my love slave
but to serve you
as you would me
my minions are well-treated

you are here

I’ve waited long for you
the rain quickens
pours between my breasts
they long for your touch
your taste

a shirt clings
to your chest
better off
I crave the smell of a man
drenched in a spring shower

I free you

don your shirt
your trousers, your essence
to be in you
as you will soon
be in me

lightning flashes
we change roles
your turn to undress me
thunder blasts
in your touch

I want you

push you to the grass
I rule you
and you crave my rule
my touch, my tongue
knees squeezing your hips

nature unleashes its fury
heaving with me in my lust
but to please you
I know your needs
as they mirror mine

I love you

all-consuming love
I give myself to you
your dreams, peaking
and in the height of my storm
I scream your name into the deluge

…and the wind whispers back


it’s just me you get today
sex-starved and a raving lunatic
naked as i slept last night
some days i just can’t put anything on
until noon when i snap out of this funk

it’s just me and my laptop
warm against the skin of my thighs
my window on the outside world
and your window into my soul
that’s you right there between my legs
enjoy it while it lasts

right now i don’t care whether you are man or woman
you are right where i want you
cuddled up with me in my bed

but it’s just me you are getting
no punctuation or caps
and just the stream that’s in my head
a stream that’s raging white water right now
threatening to take us under
yes you and me together

i’m on the shelf now
on the shelf that I put up with him yesterday
watching him with her sleeping in
he brushed up against me
several times while she watched us
not seeing the tide that was approaching its crest

he kissed me a happy new year
on the cheek dangerously close to my lips
i don’t think she saw my tongue that slipped out playfully
or the angry look that burned in his eyes
it was too dark
but i knew i had to leave or i would explode

erupt as i am now
with you my reader
my lover
in the only way i can
to stay sane
with you

you at my fingertips
accepting you
as you accept me
bare unfettered
jumping off the shelf
into your arms
i love you dear reader
i’m yours

From within

Taken, twisted,
words split,
tives: to unconditionally love.

The thrill of mystery,
I’m used, abused,
spat out: the
agony of desire.

The devil inside
is my friend,
not evil:
part of me.

Exorcise your demons,
they say. No,
embrace them,
make them your allies.

In another life
I’m happy, a
universe: my dream.

I find him,
waiting for me
in his bed,
arms open, naked.

I surrender, I did long ago,
if only he’d listened.
His lips kissed,
heaven once.

His arms, bliss,
the warmth of him,
sublime, I
could never have enough.

I am his vessel,
his ship to eternity.
I take him
to the spring of imagination.

He will not forget his debt,
my price, my flame:
to consume
innocently, his innocence.