"Bright Lights And Cold Blood"

Bright Lights And Cold Blood


Fights hurt. 
No fights work. 
I prefer distance. 
That allows me to employ light works: 
A short spurt 
followed by a large burst of energy.....


One blast towards my enemy 
from his brow to his knees. 
Let the rest stand at ease. 
Watch her scream 
as his flesh creams 
from the triple beam.


Three beams. 
No scale. 
Pure hell. 
Oh well: 
Photon, Pulse, and Moon Raker. 
Concentrated Lasers
that make your situation graver.

Good favor...
For me, at least. 
I grant no peace. 
Too late for repentance. 
You will accept your penance 
in the form of an unruly death sentence.


Steam emanates from this steaming pile.
Let it bubble and fester for awhile.
Such was his destiny
for his deceitful wiles.
So this is what's left of he.
No more unnecessary trials.


Was I too harsh?
Don't expect that inquiry from me.
This was long overdue.
The pill swallowing is through.
Now everyone looks surprised:
"Who Knew? Not me."
"Those two? Why he?"
"That flew completely over me..."


People break their neck to look
and still have yet to see.
They do their best to overlook
Until I'm present to oversee.
I never asked for the assumptions.
I always knew what I would be.
I used to keep this to myself;
but now, I don't care what is thought of me.


I'm no longer an emotional martyr.
Find a new cross bearer.
I've been pushed past farther.
I now seek to invoke terror.
The darkness never looked so bright.
There's pristine vengeance in this mud:
I charred his body with bright lights
and left his remnants in cold blood.


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Public Display (Afternoon Happenstance)"

Public Display (Afternoon Happenstance)


In dire need.
My need is high...
Eyeing knee highs
that encase these thighs
that have found rest and refuge
across my broad shoulders.
You see, 
she told me to hold her.
Her skin was much colder;
but contact incurs warmth
and a high degree of moisture.


Ringing with perspiration.
Teeming with anticipation.
Looking to erase all inclinations
that may impede ensuing precipitation.
Unorthodox events are coupled
with familiar situations.
Such potent emotions are doubled;
adding more to each sensation.
We never remain stationed:
She craves sporadic stimulation.
No rituals or concentration.
Just definitive domination.


Hands around hips.
Her body surveyed by my lips;
coasting across her like a ship
letting my mind take a trip
in anxious thirst for a sip.
Let it drip.
And drip 
And drip;
Ready for me to slip;
But I continue to lick
and slop
and sop up;
gulping every drop up.
Keeping her legs propped up.
My head may never pop up.
Eventually, I decide to stop.
There will be more later to mop up.


Satin sheets envelop this bed
surrouded by square pegs
and a mirror overhead
whilst I'm nestled between her legs.
I'd do right not to make her beg.
My lead performance gives her trust
that it should go without saying:
Relentless passion is a must.
Every stab.
Every thrust.
Every moan and groan
reveals how much she will condone
of this power that I've honed.
Unruly pain is her comfort zone.
Previous victors have been dethroned.
I am sovereign. I stand alone.
My love is rare.
There are no clones.
We embrace, wet and bare.
Her vacant plains are now my home.


Her glasses tip over.
Sheets fall as she flips over.
Back arched.
Bent over.
I'm lushed and parched;
but still lustfully sober.
I give hard, passionate strides
as I take her for a ride.
She gyrates what I take thrusts at
and challenges me to thrust back.
I give more.
She comes back.
I speed it up.
She wants that.
I beat it up.
She loves that.
She smiles as she looks back
and continues to push back.


I fell into this hole.
This syrup sweet vice grip.
She sees I'm losing control;
confounded by her tight lips.
Nice lips.
Open eyes.
Knees on the floor.
Working with vigor.
Churning out her surprise.
More than ready for what's in store.
She aggressively asks for more.
Quite demanding when she implores.


Doing what she touts and boasts;
making good on that which she gloats.
Her exposed tonsils allow me to float
until I land at the back of her throat.
Tears well as I start swelling.
She can sense that I'm ready;
so she gently shakes her jelly
whilst I freely fill her belly.
We've done worse in the best of ways;
and this was just the middle of the day.
All passers by had little to say
of our undraped window and public display.


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"The Life And Times Of A Lush"

The Life And Times Of A Lush


"That last sip was water whipped.
Go ahead and turn the heat up."
The bartender fills my cup
as I lay back and kick my feet up.
I've been going at it strong.
I should grab a bite and eat up;
because I might not make it home
and I'll likely tear the street up.
My girlfriend just texted me:
She reminded me of the the time
when we tore the back seat up.
She's waiting for me to come home:
A glass or two of fine wine
then I'll have some guts to beat up.


I fondly remember the day
that we happened to meet.
It was two drinks for one Thursday;
so I came early to claim my seat.
She moved with grace and power;
drawing eyes when she walked in
but I was focused on happy hour;
so I just sat there; soaking up gin.
She sat next to me upon arrival
as if her intentions were to greet.
Our conversing started off slow
but definitely ended up sweet.
She said "You seem to favor gin.
How about some tequila instead?"
I asked "How do you like it?"
Her reply: "I take shots to the head."


She then started grabbing bottles
as if it would impress me.
She said "As far as vodka goes,
I like Skol and Sobieski."
I polished off my glass
and replied "Well Dear:
I'm of a higher class.
I prefer Ciroc and Belvedere.
If that's too high for you to see,
then feel free to try Smirnoff;
but I can truly guarantee:
Three cups will get your clothes off."
She labeled my brand selection cute
before she eyed a bottle of Skyy;
Then told me about how Absolut
once made her insides cry.


We found common ground instantly
and met up almost every day:
Losing ourselves in conversing
while drinking Cruzan and Parrot Bay.
It shouldn't have been that way.
Maybe the liquor fueled our desire.
Honest and real was washed away
in a bottle of Bombay Sapphire.


I flung my bottle into the fire.
I could've just thrown it away;
but I knew I'd never retire
from a trash can full of Tanqueray.
I think I've lost my way.
Better yet: I'm sure of this;
because no matter how much it hurts,
I punish myself and call it bliss.
This is just ridiculous:
I act as if I've been provoked
to choke down large amounts
of Crown Royal and Coke.
I've found no way to compensate;
for the fact that remains true
that I relentlessly salivate
at the sight of Myer's and Malibu.


It's like there's nothing better to do.
I hardly feel like a normal person
unless I'm absorbing copious amounts
of my favorite Scotch or Bourbon.
I drink hard each day at any hour;
so I'm used to being tardy
but I always feel empowered
when there's Bacardi at the party.
I hardly ever adhere to schedules
due to my addictive traits
so I've no will power or mettle
and now it feels like it's too late.


My Uncle used to say:
"Boy, that brown will put you down."
That stuck with me every day
because all I seem to do is frown.


My Best friend used to say:
"Dude, that white will get you right;"
but I wonder what justifies
having new company every night?


My Cousin used to say:
"Man, that Goose will get you loose."
Well, I'm in dire need of balance:
My life and lust won't call a truce.


That girl from last night told me:
"Two shots of gin; and I'll make you sin."
That brought me back to the end of we:
The day I'd never see my love again.


That text wasn't from my baby.
She left me a long time ago.
It was from one of many maybes
who never could find a "no."
I really can't say that I blame her.
She would always trust a try;
but my destructive, reckless behavior
always gave her reasons to cry.
So now I search for Southern Comfort
without the need for a chaser
but Evan Williams nor Captain Morgan
never really seemed to replace her.
The Sour Mash was never dashed.
Bitters never tamed the flavors
of disdainful wines and spirits
that have earnestly become my erasers.


I relinquished my ability to think
and what was a brighter past
with each and every mixed drink
coupled with the contents of my shot glass.
Life and love was mine's to claim.
Nowadays, I don't have much.
I've lost all that I could gain
for the life and times of a lush.


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz