Lust Jones

I've been writing a lot lately, but have not been publishing.  This is a  quick poem inspired by the recent watching of the oldie movie Love Jones.

I've got a lust and it's jonesing;
An overflowing faucet into my cup, but the knob is not turning.
Heart palpitations when I smell the scent of her Coco, but watch her Chanel her inner hood-walk as she catwalk.
Across my peripheral, she knows what she is doing as she notices my side-eye and sudden st st studder when I talk.
I swear this got to be a show, but I'm too busy trying to keep my mouth closed, afraid my saliva might stain my clothes.
She was created to keep me unproductive.
Clear is hazy and yet she's so seductive.
The way she sat on that chair and got up, I wished that was me, by the glance of her eye, she did that just for me.
Shiiiiiii she keep playing I'm gonna...keep watching!
Acting like I'm not watching so she can keep not showing, and force this lust to keep on growing.

Arch1tekt™

Sense To My Senses

She's like a physical orgasm in the flesh how her beauty makes love to my eyes.
Like aroma therapy for my nose;
Her pheromones are like magnets as they pull me close.
Her physical touch excites the neurons in my fingertips;
While shocking my taste buds with each kiss;
Against her neck, the goosebumps raised and her epidermis is infused with perfume against my lips.
Her voice resonate against my soul;
It smoothes rough edges and makes me whole.
I see, smell, touch, taste, and hear her in my mind.
She makes sense to my senses.
When my mind daydreams, my eyes see, nose smell, hands feel, mouth taste, and ears hear her each and every time.

Arch1tekt™