“ mindplay “
c. 2001, Miriam M. Wynnmindplay,
so necessary,
runs its tongue across your brain,
and sweetly strums your intellect–
teeths you, gently,
flicks and licks the prone libido,
drawing and drugging
and sucking you open
until you are gaping, leaking,
seeping with the words of lust.is it purely physical?
never,
not even when you only meet to fuck,
not even when you never give a damn,
about what she thinks about your latest success,
what he thinks about your hopes and dreams–not even then,
because each gasp, each moan,
each harsh demand,
each manipulative physical gesture
is you–
is what it takes to open up the brain
and make it throb,
to fill it with a hole and make it
expand just to be filled.each erotic witticism,
each pliant, talented play with letters
fans the fire, sears the coals,
makes the lust shoot hotter, higher ...such lust, magnified,
once surging its way into your brain,
so burns, so scalds,
it forever leaves its mark–
once faded into aftermath
the experience still lingers,
the pleasure and the taste
still tingling on your tongue;
it will be a matter of instant conversion,
branded into the light you are blissfully saved–no kisses, then,
no tongue, no sliding hands
or hot breath again,
without words,
without looks,
without devious manipulation,
nothing but the roughest, purest,
most insistent
thorough forms of mindplay.