Facebook l Official Blog l Twitter l Hot Naked Photos of Me XXX l Services l FAQ l Gallery

Dear God, the talent here inspires me,excites me and humbles me!!


The Mojave MusingsThis trackless waste and desolate space are where my feet should roam
for if home is where the heart is then here I do belong.
The searing sucking Sun and abrasive scouring sand
flay the flesh to bone to find the stone within.
The oasis is no respite from this mirage called life
doomed to the desolation of heart's aching strife.
Bardheaded love walks upon sugar sands.
Blistered feet trudging on the bleached blanched bones
found in ardor's last entreat.
The venom of the serpent's bite is the elixir of a life
wasted in the wanderings of the heart's nomadic strife.
The weight of her Sun tilts the scales on its back
as flickering forked tongue becomes sere of honey tact.
One last step and fluttering breath to settle in the sand
to waste away day after day of living heart in hand.
Catci spines may prick the pride of love's ego grown full bloom
but stilted shade can not abate losses' burning wounds. Slow to angerIt's happening again,
a gust of change
shook the earth;
wraith of past mistakes
under the carpet
now tugging at my sleeve
hallelujah 
sings the nightingale 
dark horizon
a line of trees, naked
like my soul in your hands,
burning in something 
much more terrible 
than desire
hallelujah 
sings the nightingale 
it hurts to think
of all your lies 
but I only wipe the dust
from my scars
in spring, and I forgive 
every other season
hallelujah 
sings the nightingale 
I see no wonderland
through the looking glass,
only the inconsistency
of my skin
dead leaves,
what your smile has left
hallelujah
sings the nightingale
without a reason
you’d trust a stranger’s kiss
more than my embrace;
no more whys
perhaps it’s time for me 
to leave this broken secret
behind
hallelujah,
the nightingale cries
I am not, for you
who I want to be
     
 
:thumb562325390: Joke of the german doctorOne:
Only ones allowed to lie
are
those can
build up
everlasting phantasms.
Two:
The old fart
with failing cogs
who yellows the timespace
with his/er mumbling kidney
is the only one
allowed
to slip his memories
falling from the skull cabinets
they are
the only ones
Three:
The agonizing man
will not be saved by
the mass embrace
of all the
people of the world
-sorry not
for unveiling
your fallacy
mister Vallejo-
A steady iv
of green blood
into the pockets
is a maravilious thing
on the other hand
Four:
A faint to the head,
hatchetesque,
perhaps if the oily
haunters
spilled away
life would feel
less noosey
around the neck.
Five:
can
not
articulate
Six:
A failiure:
still being
a powerless
teenager
-while shaping up
to be
a powerless
foolish
old fart-
times
ages blurring
Seven:
May
a bed be
a henceforth
sleep bewitch
-and fuck
all the princesses
who potentially
may want
to
awaken
the willingly
stung-
Eight:
Sleepsleepsleepsleepsleep

Mature Content

:thumb562276693: Gone WishingTread carefully, the broken sod;
Treacherous, the land of nod
Catch your winks and blink away
The cobwebs on the brink of day.
Silver sails the sea of dreams
Where straying stars collect, it seems
Schooling wishes rise, and yet
We cast at last for empty net.
Time and tide will wait for none
This dreamboat sailing for the sun
Castaway the farther shore
The sirens sing us down for more.:thumb562211652: I took a LoverThunder blasts, under your palms
You hit and break with the weight of the night
You came at once, with a chilling hint
and I opened my door, I let you in my arms
You said you are too rough
You said you may crush my bones
You may freeze my blood
I said your touch is light as puff
Come to my bed, leave your storms on the rug
Let me count those snowflakes on your face
and wipe the mud off  your weary shoulders
Let me warm your hills, with one touch, one hug
But then, you will always leave me
To freeze a lake and rain down a forest
and make every warm leaf shiver
and I sit here and watch you rock the sea
UntitledSee sways of limelight sombre
See sways of cold October
There was a willow to swing
The branches strong but bending
And looks like the emerald
Ashimmer with cotton cloud
She says our afternoon were...
Under the willow swaying tree
She prays like I am nowhere
The pearl to see far out there
There was the willow beneath
We had forgotten to breathe
And look just like the emerald
Ashimmer with cotton cloud
She says our afternoons were...
Under the willow bending tree
See greys of orchards sour
The frail shivering flower
There was a willow by me
That I could stay my breaking
And look like the emerald
Ashimmer with cotton cloud
She says our afternoons were
Only a willow in my dream:thumb561454760: Porlockwe catch the hydrangeas
as they turn.
the blackberries burn with juice.
I am in the undertow of beauty
and I am crabbing for words;
they wash up sun-bleached on
the marsh
the harsh
hiss of the waves
grates the air
amaretto tangles
salted hair
Ice in the Chess(t)When I dream
I dream of chess
pieces
turning to wood and stone
after living long lives
on whaling vessels
in the very far north.
A grizzled sea captain
turning into a king.
Where the reddest grasses of the north
pressed and distorted under rivers of ice
are thrumming into checkered zigzags.
Crushed rose-tinted ice
in the elm
of these chess pieces,
white in the eyes
where they are glassy
with memory of
A rush the rush
of a tidal wave,
of leaves
laden with smoke,
of birds returning to a
cliff face
smokey with ice.
Of a cigar crusty
with sea foam,
silhouettes in salt
where the sun touches only,
barely touches I try to limit the people I disappointempty movie drifting through wires in the trees,
and they took turns repeating:
they are small themselves.
splinters behind my eyes -
used a pocketknife without wondering how.
the whole world remembers nothing.
missing panshoulders hunched into mountain peaks
humpback-jagged with remorselessness
hook totes the ghosts of little lost wonders
across empty horizons
wearing tink's faded wings like a brooch
over a heart heavy with mourning To turn at last to paths that lead homeI sit by the window-side
In the last breaths of day,
And watch the stars proliferate
Emerging from the dark as
Water lilies in blackened water,
Regurgitating a honey-gold heart
Into her cusp, tenderly white
(Enamored with the night).
I wait by the window-side
And hear them come, the merry
Folk who laugh in harp-songs while
They frolic to the veranda 
(Swift as the silvered streams, 
Ageless as the moon's hunters, 
Eternal maidens of pine green and
Gilded conch horns, snow-dappled
Hart of antlers bright).
I rise from the window-side,
No luggage in hand, no charts
For the land where I am destined
To journey henceforth this fateful
Gloaming, all but a lantern-light
To bid goodbye dangling above the
Doorstep. They smile from the meadow,
Wind-chime eyes opalescent in the
Dim, the clarity of snowdrop sight.
I look back to my window-side,
Where I watched rainstorms of stars,
Etched my signature in droplets and
Drew a heart with his name, years
Spent in tessellation as I saw
The LingerRaindrops - or at least their silhouettes -
like underwhelming constellations, dotting
exposed bone walls: a disruption to the usual
electric flesh that coats them
Ebbing tides of dead-town insignificances
leaving wave-like patterns in the concrete
only spectres now, only ghosts -
drifting serpentine along the ageing
tarmac shores -
flit between the patterned shadows of raindrops  
And the spectres - or at least their silhouettes -
caught beneath insalubrious
small-town skies
dance between meagre, earthbound
constellations
and think back to times of rain AutumnI sway with the leaves,
walking the wet path alone.
Two Autumns at once.

Mature Content

autumni thought he was a golden summer,
so i fell for him like the tide.
while nightdreaming of those    infinite stars that glittered past his
collarbone shores,
                  and the turquoise aquamarine sapphire in his eyes,
i ran barefoot from
my beating equinox heart so that i could feel his breezes tangling my hair
and hear the pulses of his tides.
                 (just carry me away, now)
my her
beautiful    (unattainable)
ocean,
i can't live without breathing in,
and we both know that your cold cold heart will never be able to replace my
oxygen. self conservationleave the fox on the hill;
growing streetwise, stunning
in his winter whims
I owe him nothing, owe him
everything and more
but here he's taken straight,
licking gauzy wounds and ranging
less and less below dense arms
of branched forest, sundered
he knows too well his fates,
that any man could take him
blue and pale and lacking
to the edge of death (and the sea
that sways before her)
for my part I know no tune
to tell him not to worry, tell him
not to give up on the human hand
so let him be as jaded, as cynical
as the world will make him; rigid
spine perking up his ears and softly
say goodbye before he goes :thumb561419478:
necessityfor now
let us do what is necessary
laying groundwork for the future
until you are strong enough
to be certain what you want
then
whether or not you choose
to send me away
to build my life elsewhere
without you
or
allow me to stay and give
my everything
to you
I will at least have done
what love requires of me
with a patience
and tenderness
you will not find
with anyone else
but that will be your choice
and your voice
shall be my gospel
William F. DeVault  all rights reserved UntitledSunsetSunset wraps up the day in ribbons and bows
And we watch another page torn from the calendar of our lives.
Hearts measure time not of clocks, but anothe rythm,
More like surf, or the beating of wings.
With a cold wind in my face I think of
The beauty in loss, and the bitterness in gain.
I think,
Jasmine tea,
Don't you?
Locking The Door IThere is a reason we lock our doors at night
To bear the fangs of cold
Until morning awakes
To shut out the birds' evensong
To keep away our neighbors.
For safety and peace of mind
To hear the click of the lock,
A security boon
And an omen of what would've come
Could've come in silence
And with creeping limbs
To break our solitude
With violence first sleep of mena system of stinking alleys rolled into the shadows,
all that is over using the next door urinal -
creations already looking down are helpless.
the man sleeping in the mountains
will go to god and take this pill,
whatever it is. morals dragged under,
show yourselves.
temptation - someone always interrupting -
read further and listen for a new way of looking
at regular drinkers coming home, still thinning
so you can forget they go to god
expecting to live alone.
Introverted.Tear myself to pieces,
To make yourselves whole,
I’ll put on another face,
And I’ll make all your dreams become reality,
I’ll bury my heart in the dark, 

So you can finally feel the sun kiss the darkest reaches of your soul,
I’ll guard your joy with my life,
So you will flourish to your best self,

I encourage your smiles,
When I can’t bare anymore time,
My ashes will be your fire,
Burn with vigour and forgive my weakness.

Be what I cannot bare to be. Blood and Duski held a harvest-handful
of your moonlight,
held your shape
and edges, both
deceivingly sharp
cut through the dull
filtering
airborne layers
of blood and dusk
between us
i held the edges
of an impossible baby,
a hole of undreamt weight
born into the skies
of my hand
his blood and mine, lay
autumn's thin film down,
a gauze sheet
between expressions of
lives relived, love and loss
and between apologies,
its coarse weave
softly bludgeons, blots
features and details
into digestible memories
our ghost skins
darken-in, where
our eyes and mouths
collect the blood and dusk
of sight, breath and wonder
how this atmosphere
can just hang, bruised
blood-orange and slack
as an unwanted head, hung
onto another sleeping animal's neck
:thumb519117995: PortentsPortents
The crickets chirp a dreary tune,
Hark the bells of impending doom.
The pyre dwindles to smoky embers,
As the wolf echoes in moonlit whimpers.
The crypt cries of a love gone wry,
With a teary torrent from the words I scribe.
Desperate screams to my hero lost,
While a rose succumbs to trending frost.
Winds billow from the nip of winter,
My heart fails from these lethal splinters,
I feel death encroaching on this starless night,
Knowing you’ve forgotten our dreamy plight.
An oath once given to deafened ears,
To reappear throughout my years.
Forsaken to a quest you chose long ago,
And this shadow they will never know.
A palace now ivied in decades of vain,
An urn filled with the bleeding slain,
And this sepulcher predestined to fall,
All steeled away in that demonic vault.
Sculpted upon the Deadman’s gate,
Here lies my languished fate. kismetThrough every crevasse of
our private universe I'll chase,
grasping the meteor's coat tails
as its life force is spent
creating shooting stars
for us to wish on.
(isn't it curious that
matter we'll never meet
fizzles out in lighting energy
to grant selfish dreams
and burning desires?)
Your mind is a wormhole
stuck looping and twirling
into unseen darknesses,
ricocheting silently- -
a pinball trapped between bumpers,
your lips running free with musings:
the building blocks of God
cannot be the same
as those of our existence- -
perhaps, my dear,
there's undiscovered matter
that constructs the unimaginable.
we fall into constellations
with stardust in our pockets- -
the dying bumblebees
heavy with golden bounty.
Our universe fragments,
fingers flailing and losing grip.
We are lost to one another,
a lifetime spent swimming
through sharp blackness,
reaching blindly for familiar skin
that will always be home- -
although I may never touch
that which I have sought again,
I must believe
(somewh

Journal skin by TwiggyTeeluck
Image by pincel3d