A letter to Dorian

You are to me the tickling breath upon my neck

The powder-soft feel of my inner thighs

On a cool rainy day

I close my eyes and your essence fills me

Sparks exploding where your hands,

Lips, and other tips have surveyed

Let it not be said

That what you give is pleasure

The hardening of my nipples

My lips dripping with dew

My body shivering from the torture that is you

All reveal that it is pure magic


Smile for me once more

Let me learn the sight and feel of your lips

My entire body blushes

As your eyes bore through my soul

Even as you bare it all

Your heart

Your mind

Your wisdom

I still see the man





Wrap your arms around me

So that I can absorb all that is you

Love me hard and deep

So I feel you even in your absence

Let my body never forget

Your claim

Your mark upon my soul


Tattoo my heart

So that even as it wanders

Exploring the world

It will always come back to you





I have never known success
Not in the way others describe it
And my happiness....
Has been as fleeting as a day
As recurrent as an eclipse
Even when the good distractions
Pitifully pay me heed
I never seem to have enough
To be enough
To sustain them

How can I write ‘happy’?

Depression depresses.
Solemn scripts will bring anyone down.
All people seem to want to read about is sunshine and rainbows,
unicorns and puppies,
children’s laughter and caramel apples,
walks in the park and family Sundays,
love’s delight and blissful relationships.
But my brother,
if I’ve never experienced these things,
how can I write ‘happy’?