judgement, life, poetry

Living In-Between

From the beginning

the poems began. 

All good things lay there. 

Yet no one wants to go home.

To what end? 

We all return to the master.

But my problem is His mercy

Because my life breathes in 

The in-between.

The flavor between the drink

The silence when my heart’s not beating

The tingle between the touch

Life is not the sleeping or the escatcy.

It is the in-between 

The rush between release

The water gushes down my throat


Before I breathe.

Is the beauty in anticipation


Orgasm titillation


That’s only a millisecond

Awoken in-between

The dishes

The make-your-bed

The shoes from under the couch

Arouse the in-between

Long enough to see

Flirt below occasion

Twitch beneath my gut

Long enough to feel

That I don’t live there

Excitement is

Not a reason

Satisfaction is

Not a season

When I’m made to hold my breath

For infinite beats

While ticking in-between

Tiny pleasure

Revealed, reviled

To parse the in-between

To remember this is mercy

Until the end, when poems will stop.

No more betweens will stave the pain

The lightening pleasures flash condemned

When I won’t live there


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