Desinence

Trembling at the core I sit and stare.
Head hung low, and eyes fixated, I stare.
An explosive invasion of thoughts swarm my head,
Forming puddle caps underneath my eyes.
"I miss you so much." Is the first intrusion.
"Let's get back together." The second intrusion.
"Do you miss me?" Third intrusion.
"Probably not as much as I do." Final intrusion.

Memories of the good times dance across your temple like notes on sheet music.
Dissonance-
A shiver causes my hands to shake,
Eyes squint shut, a tear stream down my cheek.
Images of others pass me by like pedestrians on New York City busy streets.
It's too many.
Each parades a chain hanging from their necks:
"We've Fucked While You Were Out"
"More Than Just A Brother...Think About It"
"We Currently Date...You Didn't Know?"

When do you really let something go? Is there a specific time limit for how long you have to hold it before you can let it go? Or, how soon would it be appropriate to let it go? Furthermore, how would you know that you've let it go, completely? I want to know!

Many of us have experience this when it came to breaking up with a love one. I know I did and still do. Male SGL relationships, I believe, are way more difficult than any other relationship. We go through 10x's more things in a six month period than any other sexual oriented couple, but to have gone through the roller coaster ride for 3.5yrs, it's even more strenuous. If you two haven't fallen in love within this time frame, then what was the sense of staying together and going through it all? Honestly, it's rare for any couple to be in a relationship for that long and not fall in love, and then out of love.

Trust is the major, if not, most important element in most relationships, but for male SGL relationships, it is paramont. This is mostly due to the sexual nature of both partners. We must admit, as men, we are sexual creatures. When something looks fresh and new and gains our interest, we have to capture it, experience it, and occasionally indulge in it from time to time. With this being said, the trust factor has to be establish almost prematurely and cemented so that the relationship can have a longer lasting duration, thus, creating a firm foundation.

We're told by family members, friends, strangers, teachers and others that in a life's time you will fall in love at least once. This means that you will create a heart-link with a special individual who will gain special authority to manipulate you in a plethora of ways, both good and bad. I think it comes with the territory. Love is a supernatural feeling. Many have tried to explain what it is, but the truth of the matter is it's very subjective yet objectively intriguing to everyone wishing to find "the one". The feelings are synonymous within everyone, yet it compels you to act and behave in contrasting ways. I'll give my definition of "In Love" in the end.

"Take out a piece of paper and on one side, right all the positive things about your relationship, and on the other side, write the negative things. If the positive outweighs the negative, then there is a means to stay together. If the negative outweighs the positive, then there is a means to go your separate ways." We've all heard this, but have we tried it? I have, sort of. I've laid in bed, sat in a train car seat, road in the passenger seat of a car, daydreaming for 11 months about these such things, and finally reached a conclusion. During the many years my relationship endured, the negative outweighs the positive. Thus, I must close this chapter in my life. There you have it. It's done. Finished. I can move on.

This is just what outsiders think, but only a few can attest to the complexities of such a closure to a serious lengthy relationship. You go through stages of disconnection, is what I call it.

1.) Heartache- This stage is extremely sensitive and overwhelming with feelings and emotions, sometimes following depression, lack of appetite, sleep, anti-social behavior, and crying. This initial stage is the first part of the process. Anger, hurt, rage, and melancholy behavior are some of the most notable symptoms. This is also one of the most hyper-attentive stages of the disconnection process. Anything can trigger a memory that can ignite any one of the symptoms and feelings that I've expressed.

2.) Accusation- This second stage is where you start to figure out where the decline started. You're pretty judgmental of yourself and your position within the relationship, sometimes pointing the blame at yourself for specific reasons, not entirely the core problem that lead to the break up. You tend to ration with yourself and your ex, determining where compromising could have alleviated the tension and circumstances that caused the break up. You feel remorseful, alone, as well as many of the symptoms within the first stage.

3.) Reconnection- This is the Mighty Third stage. I call it Mighty Third because during this stage, the rate at which a couple gets back together is high, mainly because of the second stage. You've decided that you want to give the relationship another go, seeing if the things you've come to find that have possibly caused the end of your relationship, can be fixed through compromising and reconciliation. Feelings of "new love", excitement, longing, and fulfillment are experienced. However, sometimes coming to the realization of what has happened, you opt for a friendship rather than a relationship to allow some type of connection to stay. Let's face it, if you've invested a lot of time and energy into someone who you've fallen in love with, part of them you want to continue to keep with you, usually the good parts of them; the memories of the good times that you've spent together is what makes this an option. Going back in forth is inevitable within the third stage, and the length of time spent here can be as short as a month or two, or for more serious heart-link ties, years. Nevertheless, depending on how detrimental the relationship was for you, you might opt out of having anything to do with them, bringing you to the fourth stage: Coping.

4.) Coping- the second to last stage, is where you've determine that what has happened, was meant. Hopefully, you've learned what you needed so that the next relationship you get into would be more lasting and possibly, "the one". You've accepted your faults and have forgiven yourself as well as your ex. You decide to remain single for a while to finish the healing process of the disconnection. Also, you're starting to get back into the dating world, but this time, with more preferences/requirements of your potential new lover. Excitingly, you're starting to do some of the things you use to do, prior to the relationship, that defined some part of your character. You're ready to enjoy life and move forward, you're ready to Disconnect.

5.) Disconnect- You've officially let go. You've erased and removed everything that was possible from your most recent relationship, and you are stronger and eager to socialize with others. You're sort of looking for "the one," but is every much enjoying your single life. You're becoming more like your old self, in a good way. You're ready for you heart to be capture yet again. You're still healing, but the wounds are closed, just a couple of fresh scabs that peal off occasionally, exposing smidgens of the past. Nevertheless, you are...available.

I've been stuck in the third stage since January 2010, that's 11 months to date. Close to a year later, I've finally reached the final stage. I've disconnected, and I feel a big release. I no longer have the desire to want to get back with my ex, nor do I have the desire to want any type of relationship with him, for now at least. I'm ready to finish the healing process and move forward, embarking on a new journey with that special someone. Who knows when that day will come, but when it does, I promise I'll be ready on all levels. It was a joy to have grown as much as I have. I thank God for healing, and I thank God for giving Eddie D. Burks the strength to persevere.

"So what's your definition of being 'in love'?" You ask.

It's quite simple: to be vulnerable to accepting things as they are, quite ignorantly, I might add. Yet, having the strength to uncover truths that lies within the sentiments of fleshly emotions, coated with words, actions, behaviors, and ideas all computing "the feeling" at an instant. Obliviousness I suppose... In other words, it's just as I've stated: "the truth of the matter is, it's very subjective yet objectively intriguing to everyone wishing to find 'the one'. The feelings are synonymous within everyone, yet it compels you to act and behave in contrasting ways." But we all love the feeling, we just want it with the right person doing the right things.

**sighs**

Fallen

The fiery eyes that glare underneath the soul cause one to cringe.

Patiently it waits for the moment to strike.

Enlarging with every opposition and embraced by its caged space, it stays.

Temptations trap the attention of the flesh, dictating and manipulating reactions,

Unleashing dark forces to rattle the chains of its captive.

Strong energy chafes, soon breaking the chains and suctioning the soul open.

Bursting through, transformation takes place.

Fiery eyes become equip with feet, legs, torso, hands, arms, neck, head, mouth, and nose.

It stands to annihilate everything in its path.

Demolition is top priority, starting with the soul of another.

The stench of sadism engulfs its nostrils,

Infinitely recharging its satanic behavior.

Dissolved like a stain of breathe against a mirror, one becomes it.

Provocation increases the arousal state, shutting down cognition.

Sifting through concentrated levels of toxic sheath;

The soul is found.

Defenseless, it tries desperately to rejuvenate the paralyzed limbs of its flesh.

Holes expose the imprints of purity, gorged out by overpowering sins.

Lifeless, the body tries to reboot, tapping at the soul’s purpose.

The struggle is exhausting, leaving the body twitching in a paranormal state.
The flesh is loosed, striking the ground.

A surge of energy races through its temple, causing a gasp for air.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned.”

Tango: Part II

Excerpt from Tango:

The swelling of my fatty pressed against the zipper of my crotch. The elongation of my infused muscle brushed upward along my left thigh, steadily rising. The fabric of my wool and cotton charcoal dress slacks pressed against it. I could feel small droplets of pre-cum peek through the tip of my mushroom head, and seep through my gray cotton boxers. No wonder the stares.

"Excuse me, is the Thompson Center this way?"

The youngster stood five feet in front of me with the older standing close by. The beating of my heart increased as I quickly hid myself. The rumbling of the approaching train rattled the tracks above our heads. It's nothing like being downtown. Busy, noisy, and full of life makes it one of the most beautiful places in the Midwest.

"It's five blocks that way, and on the left."

As I spoke, I pointed them in the direction to go. Slowly moving towards them, I felt my fatty sway against the wind. The wind compressed my slacks providing a perfect outline of my full erection. Noticeably, I replaced my hands. It was too late. The youngster's face softened and a slight grin parted his lips.

"We're not really heading there; there is a building across from it that we're going to." The youngster replied, his eyes non-removed from his discovery.

"My organization has opened a new location here, and I've not seen downtown since moving here two weeks ago."

I tried my best to concentrate on what the older was saying, but he made it very hard. All I could imagine was the invasion of my palette from the taste of his lips pressed against mines. During his pause, his tongue swiped across his top lip and traced his bottom, illuminating their pink softness. He used his teeth to even out the moisture from his tongue by allowing his bottom lip to uncurl itself from its grasp, revealing a set of pearly whites.

"What's the name of your organization?"

"Helping Hands, it's a center for youth."

"Really, how long have you been working there?"

"For about five years now. I got an internship while I was in college and they offered me a job after graduation."

"That's wassup!"

"It's really nice. Bakarri is new to the Center; he's one of the youth I mentor."

"It’s nice to meet you Bakarri."

"You too man." Bakarri said as he shook my hand.

His hands were soft, a dark-brown complexion-almond to be exact. Youngster sounded so juvenile compared to Bakarri. I could only imagine the delight he gets when he tells the "kids" his name, hell, I even enjoyed saying it.

"So it's just down the street this way, five blocks on the left?"

The older moved in closer, leaning down a bit to look down the street. Any closer he would have touched it.

"Yes, you can't miss the building. It's the only building on the street and the name is posted on it."

Our eyes locked, and I couldn't help but to stare into his oval shaped pupils. They had such calmness to them; warm, inviting, and secure.  

"Okay, thanks man."

Shoving my hands back into my coat pockets, I watched as they walked down the street close together.  Bakarri tried earnestly to remain by the older's side, and with much effort, he managed to follow a half a step behind.

Memories

Slim ledges thinly glazed in black

protrudes fine tiny hairs forward,

stretching upward and wide, curling, straightening, or clumping to

shield white pebbles, blotch stained in brown, green, blue, gray, or black upon closure.

Desires manipulate cognition and seeps through cracks

sending energy surging through limbs,

catapulting liquid pockets to stretch the ledges and trickle downstream.

On to the cheeks, trails of life’s times race to free fall

causing slim ledges thinly glazed in black,

to close and retreat.

Brown Chocolate Woman

I see her sitting there all made up

with the tips of her lips on the brim of her coffee cup.

She calmly observes sleep battle with our young'n,

Brown Chocolate morsels made from pure love'n.

Our eyes connected, her's slightly irritated this time,
Perhaps too long of a pause without stating a reason of mine.

"Why are you steady looking at me like that,
do I have something on my face, are my lips chapped?"

"No." I replied,
"I was wondering where your history derived?
Like what transpired your dedication, perseverance, and your willingness to provide?"

She smiles, her lips retracts from her cup,

leans in forward, barely rises up.

Her speech, such words of wisdom and truth,

"Honey, It's been instilled in me since the foundation of my youth.

Passed down from Gran' ma'ma and her mother's Ma'ma,

to my Ma'Dear my mother's momma.

Combing my hair through tear-filled eyes,

and preaching habitually my ancestor's cries.

The loneliest of roads frequently traveled,

Covered with gems and crystal gravel,

Mirrors the reflection of hardship tales,

of other Brown Chocolate Women like myself.

More than the slits of honey based lips resting in-between my knee-highs,

 or my sensual breast, and elegant legs overflowing from my thighs.

I'm stacked upon layers of plenty of women who've sworn to never reveal the complexities,

of how to influence, dominate, and top the ranks of all other racial identities."

And with the rise of her eyebrow and slight nod of her head,
she gathered her coat, purse, and our sleepy heads .

Obediently, our children followed her out, 

no pouting, cursing, or stumping about.

It's just like my mom always said,
You'll press your luck trying to get inside a woman's head.

Queen'n Out!

In the SGL community, a Queen is someone that is loud, highly energetic, verbally opinionated, extremely feminine and deals with situations sometimes ostentatiously. At times, they can become a serious problem and a headache. When things are going well, for silly reasons, Queens can overstep their boundaries and cause the situation to escalate further than it should. Partially their straightforwardness with quick sassy comebacks can cause an explosive argument. Very temperamental and defensive, a Queen is always on guard. Think of them as a modernize bully that is quick with his speech, and always ready with a blade, razor, or gun in his hands.

By no means am I bashing them, even though I try my best to keep them at a distance. Many of their characteristics I despise, but mostly their loud feminine qualities. Admittedly, I fall fast for the masculine quality of a man. I've had beautiful girlfriends, but for some reason a guy's physique makes me melt. Their testosterone over powers me, and their aggression and dominance lures me. I can go on and on about what a man does for me, but I'll save that for Tango.

Optimistically, Queens can be influential individuals within the SGL community; a parental figure to many young SGLs who have no motherly guidance. They are very compassionate, sacrificial, and loving individuals. They are defenders of their family creating tight bonds and even providing housing, money, food, and work opportunities to their young counterparts.

This subculture can be so toxic at times, and I sometimes wish that some SGLs wouldn't possess the negative characteristics of Queens. Yet, this world is diversely filled with people and personalities. Reality is, it's not my perfect little world and the more I can tolerate and learn how to handle such human beings, the better and more well-rounded I'll become.

-Eddie B.

Love

Love,
Controlling desires swept up by the wind;

Descending upon the vulnerable trapped tenant.

With hallow casing, and desiring so much;

Mesmerizing beauty yet buckling at the touch.

Unconditionally yielding at the mercy of another;

Origins unknown no remnants of a letter.

Love,
A motherless child equivalent at best;

Doesn’t quite understand and longing for what’s next.

Rattles the chest when can’t fit in;

Emotions compressed hidden feelings.

Love,
An identical clone sculpted structurally

Transparency revelation rules conclusively.

Intoxicated, engulfed and inflamed;

Increasing frequencies to rupture, pleasure/pain.

Love,
Liquid flows profusely through blue veins,

Collapsed/inhaling, momentum’s insane.

Captivating our souls, sincerity rings through

Language succinct, words are few.

Love,
Locked, concealed, secured confines,

Terminates trespassers from enemy lines.

Fighting the battle, combat is necessary,

Including protection which makes it legendary.

Pipeline vessels bullwhips the flesh,

Healing wounds from alluring conquests.

Love,
Unstoppable intentions ultimately to conquer,

Casing keeps it shatter proof unable to puncture,

Destiny match-up finally takes its place,

The heart skips a beat, and changes its pace.

Love

Tango

Excerpt from Tango:

There's nothing like the presences of masculinity. In a society where it's forbidden to like the same sex, sub-culturally, sensuality and sexuality dominates the Black SGL (Same Gender Lover) community. Sexual prowls of older men towards younger men and vice verse, have become the new method of communication. I never would have thought I would be uncomfortable, nervous, and anxious discussing the tango of courtship. Yet, this observation was all too familiar.

The air smelled of Autumn as the sound of leaves crunched underneath my feet. Swirls of wind nip at my exposed flesh. A shiver causes me to shove my hands deep inside my coat pockets, while swiftly walking towards the end of the long CTA Blue Line platform. Hat, scarf, hoodie, and an Italian wool and cashmere coat shields my body against the war of the winds. With lips chapped and eyes squinted, I waited for the arrival of the train. The conversation of two gentlemen sitting on a nearby bench catches my attention. Both are black, one is obviously older than the other.

The youngster was about 5'8, 150lbs, dark-brown complexion with an athletic built. His hair was nicely faded, accompanied by business casual attire: a black tailored quarter length trench coat, a barely visible dark-colored sweater, fitted black slacks, and black loafers. A pair of designer eyeglasses completed his look. The older was a little bit stockier, about 6'1, 180lbs, golden-brown complexion with an athletic built. He sported a freshly lined faded haircut, accompanied by a more business professional attire: a light-colored shirt with tie, black blazer, a black full-length trench coat, black slacks, black loafers, complete with a blue messenger bag.

It was clear the infatuation was there. The vulnerability of body language exposed the inexperienced youngster. Instantaneously, I saw myself in the young man's shoes, nervously trying to conjure up conversation to subside my anxiousness. It's weird staring at your own reflection.

There are two entries into the train car, dissecting the car into three sections: front, middle, and back. The second entry to the first car of the train pulled up directly in front of us, allowing us to get on. The gentlemen proceeds to the left of the entry way to sit in two sets of seats towards the back of the train car. One set, the youngster sat in facing the set of seats directly across from him. Another set, the older sat in facing the set of seats of the youngster. When the train moved, the youngster traveled sideways, and the older in the direction of travel.  I sat in adjacent seats facing them both in the middle section, separated by the second entry way of the train car. In the direction of travel, I was facing backwards.

Public places makes it very hard for SGLs to date, let alone court each other. This leaves us to develop a secret method of communication: the classic cell phone display.

When two SGLs have spotted one another in a crowded public place, one or both parties would dial their number on their phones, hold their phones in a position that is seclusive to one another, and pause long enough to allow each party time to input and save the number for an immediate call following. This display of courtship is one of the safest and easiest ways to obtain a number.

The opportunity for connection lapsed each time the youngster slid his phone from his left coat pocket to his hands, or from his left thigh to his pocket. The older would glance over only to be disappointed. At unexpected times, the older's eyes would trace the youngster's body.

The younger leaned against the back of his seat and closed this eyes. Locking his ankles, he pressed his hands in-between his thighs and squeezed them together.

Pulsation of his thighs provided warmth to his hands, not to mention, injection to his fatty. The curves of his ass salivated my mouth. As he inhaled and exhaled, his chest rose like homemade biscuits, and fell like melting butter. I suspected his body was to die for: dark-brown pecs with nipples of brown sugar, towering over a set of six-pack abs. Sports trunks snug his lean 32" waist, carving an imprint of his meat.  His thighs inviting, tempted me. I was mesmerized by the youngster's temple and could not stop staring. Yet, my imagination was paused by an abrupt stop of the train. I glanced around to see if anyone noticed. Convinced no one had, I proceeded. With each bowing of the older's head, opportunity provided the youngster with a much needed overview of his body.

The opening of the older's legs occupied both seats. I could imagine the massiveness of his sleeping flesh. As my eyes traced his body, his hands took me hostage. Thick, long, manicured golden-brown fingers rest upon his knees. Pulling out Carmex from his left coat pocket, he emerged his left index finger deep into it's gooey core. Subconsciously replacing his finger with mines, I caressed his top lip and pressed against his bottom.

The infatuation intensified with each visual intake. Replacing his Carmex, he opened his coat and dug into his right breast pocket. It was exposed. The top three buttons of his dress shirt were unfastened, revealing small strands of hair resting against the dissection of his chest. My erogenous zone. Hesitant to leave, my eyes travel to his, and fainted. Piercing hazel-brown with long curled eyelashes stared back at me; darting to the right, then back at me; to the right again, then to the ringing phone he took out his breast pocket. Startled, the youngster opened his eyes and leaned forward towards the floor, turning his head towards the older to listen. Moments later, the older asked the youngster for help with sending a text from his phone.

Word bubbles congest my brain shoving desperation and absentmindedness forward. I fought hard to burst them all. The youngster typed and sent the text, returning the phone back to its owner. Unrehearsed, they both glanced my way causing my head to turn towards the window. I could feel their eyes cutting through me. Surprisingly, they continued to stare. Squinting, I zoned in on their mirrored reflections.

The train came to a halt allowing more passengers on and off. I continued to watch. At one point, I started to allow the thought of them being friends or relatives to prove itself, but quickly changed my mind at relative. Approaching my stop, I stood up and moved towards the exit getting a nice close up of my study. The expression on their face caused me to quickly turn my head. The train stopped and the doors opened allowing me to escape. I stepped out and onto the platform heading towards the stairs.

More stares followed. Ascending the last flight of stairs, I became desperate to know if things would go all the way. I wanted to know if they were going to fuck.

"Damn!" I shouted.

I exit the train station headed towards school.

"Is the Thompson Center this way?"

Turning towards the direction of the question, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Subliminal Truth

The mass of flesh that occupies my hands,

takes me on a journey of bliss and nonverbal demands.

Squeezing and pinching with every chance I get,

gliding and slipping because of the sweat.

Mountains and valleys base entrapment,

created by crevices of your abdomen,

Segway the pathway to heaven to open wide,

sending the rhythmical beat of your heart to rise.

A detour of positioning starts to take over,

the blanket or comforter or sheet or cover;

Decreases the space like shifting tectonic plates,

influencing buildup of soluble volcanic escapes.

Guiding my arm over and around,

your body is locked in tight, impound.

The friction comprised of front to end,

excites Johnson & Johnson, the counterpart twins.

Eager to release but scared to try,

intrigues my ability to subside.

Comfortable, soothing and quite calm,

the nipple of your right pec teases my palm.

As the night drifts away tailgated by day,

 deep breathing separated by equal pauses of delay,
confirms your prolonged and awaited stay.

Maybe I've finally found my Mr. Right,

complimentary to my satisfied appetite. 

So much so I lay here mesmerized, 

I try to moved my head, nope, I'm semi-paralyzed.

Thinking of our rendezvous outside the covers,

sends a pulse running through my fatty like butter. 

Laying my head close to your neck,

Drifting off to sleep, face towards your back.

Soon our breathing becomes in-sync,

intruded by a pause or cause to think.

Something is missing,

this is too good to be true,

wait, wait, wait a second...

who are you?

Cure for Gay, take it or not?

Sometimes I'd love to taste the obliviousness of a chemical compound produce from pure hedonism designated to dissipate the gay orientation, or as I like to call it: "SGL: Same Gender Lovers", but, most times I enjoy the alienation of peculiarity. What more does it prove than for the need of conformity. Gay/SGL is definitely abnormal; Abnormal in all of its definitions entirely. Optimistically, abnormal is perfect for Gays/SGLs. Therefore, I'm content with being me, and gay/sgl being a characteristic of me.

Which would you choose?