i am readyI’m ready for you to come and escort my mind into experiences I find hard to breathe in. I wanna be man handled to attention through positions I can barely move in. Have that man kind of sex you day dream about when you remember me riding it like I’m famous. Visions of me gliding them dubs of mine on the surface of your black top with the scent from candles lit from match box sticks mixing and blending with the aroma of our sexual motion rivaling the white capped waves of the ocean.

He told me I must write like pages and pages and pages and pages the way I hold his pencils tip to my lips pushing the retractable Bic down to make contact with them college ruled lines of my five star throat. Dictating the groans from notes you haiku’ed from thoughts of me in your bed.

I told him, yo, any dick is good if you ride it right, but the sound of them drums you beat made the blowing of your saxophone something of a treat. The concentration it takes to inhale the length of a real Black Man provides a headache sending tears of hungry lust down my face. Nothing compares to the baseline you play from the specifics you discover with your fingers strumming my body like acoustic flattery. Making that groovy rhythmic love the way it was made to feel. The euphoric high pronounced aesthetically from sexual calisthenics curving my spine into a tight chicane of pleasure on the edge of being pain.

I’m ready for the real deal, that no frills type, that no need to draw no conclusion, that no beat around the bush type of brotha who loves his mother with some good mortgage dick to steal my draws from the very grip of my waist in the third hour and twentieth minute of the night surrendering for the hell of it.  Your dominance chooses to respect my very own nature of submissive hardness allowing me to reciprocate the desire where the super meets the natural so intended by passion that can only be felt with each deep stroke of the pen written through a spiritual intimate connection rejecting all other mediocre contenders.

I’m just ready for that dude to step to me correct. Yo’, no disrespect to those who’ve tried, but they just pose a threat to where I’m going. For the tight narrow path I possess isn’t easy to traverse and ain’t for no mediocre, average every day, run of the mill, type of wanna be video phone director. I need a protector, a deflector of his own bullshit to recognize me as more than a new face to hit, but as a griot and his king, who understands in my life, he can’t just come quick in and out when the new booty smell is gone. When the thrill from a few dollars was spent. But be heaven sent companionship with only “The” Celestial third party involved within the adhesion of our bond. A love that proves to be so much more than the clue or simple answer to an intimate prayer…

By John Collins


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