DESIRE. MALE RESURRECTION. CHARLIE METCALFE.

Body immovable,
as I light up.
Hair greased,
and I lie back.
Blood surges
swiftly onwards,
drown my mind.
You beside me,
soothe my eyes.
Sheets dripping,
warm and wet.
Roll a J,
high onset.
Moon’s above,
clouds below,
sun tomorrow.
Twist my way
head limp
shake the day
take my hand
take a drag
take a pill
roll around
hairs arise
nose tingle
push me over
crawl on top
ride the wave
twist and turn
twist and shout
sink and swim
crawl on front
stroke your breast
stroke your back
grab my arm
butterfly
kiss my heart
hold my eyes
now with yours
held inside
falling in.
Waves above.
Fish below.
No tomorrow.

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DESIRE. Anonymous. Poem/ Rant. ‘Desire stretches to press pause’

Desire. When someone says desire Am I supposed to imagine a rush of blood? A pounding sensation in my ears? Hands that are both clammy and ice And dilating pupils? Because really my desire just presses pause. A clean slice through the white noise Into bold and unapologetic silence. Every thought in my head that cried out for attention And every colour and shape and sight I can see Threaded together and held by a single knot. Desire doesn’t care for clocks or circumstance. It just knows it is now And now is a moment trembling before us, a glimmer of light reflected on the
floorboards. When love must consistently burn through the night desire need only light the match. No longer will I
ascribe a temperature or state to something so urgent and fleeting: A whisper in my ear or fingers raked through my
hair, A glance or a hand on my back that no one passing saw, Breathe on my neck. I don’t hear or see anymore. It is
desire that steps out to encase me but you step first. A dance with the present tense. Desire stretches to press pause.

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NO SET TOPIC. Poem and illustration about frustrated love. Written by Kai Landolt.

You glimmer, you glisten, I reminisce.
We flocked in lust, swamped deep it gushed.
I can’t help myself but be immersed in fragments of you.
you remain complex, unrendered and unhinged
i remain Scorned.
Maybe you discovered enough.

You plucked my rotten leaves
And chose to leave my ripe fruits.
You left me leaping inside my skin
Contorting in all directions.
Im left bruised purple, beyond blue

You glistened, you glimmered. You forget.

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Bodies. Photographs by Carina Harford.

ABOVE IS CARINA HARFORD. PHOTOGRAPHER, AND UNDERNEATH ARE A SELECTION OF REFINED BLACK AND WHITE PHOTOGRAPHS SHE HAS TAKEN IN NATURAL LOCATIONS. THE BODY IS THE SUBJECT IN EACH PHOTO.

MESSAGE FROM CARINA- my photographs are mainly about abstraction – we live in an internet world where the body is divorced from the individual; the body as a whole is divorced from sex, and sex is often divorced from emotion. Everything is compartmentalised. We have become abstract projections of ourselves, presenting incomplete and distorted images of our lives to create surreal online personas in which the body is a silent commodity.
I want that abstraction to work in a different way. I want nudity (the viewed unclothed body) to become nakedness (the freedom of being in your natural body). To me the naked body is freedom; is a step towards uniting the fractious compartments of the presented self. We are not nude for each other, we are naked for ourselves.


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DESIRE. ‘BODY  LANGUAGE’. A piece by Sophie Lawrence.

“body language”

his eyes pierce through a heavy duty seal
reaching deep inside me
into previously unexplored layers of sensation
i lose focus of everything else around me
it starts with tingling hands
but soon my whole body ascends into the warmth and fuzziness of dancing flesh and bones
every twist and turn sets off sparks
dizzying, high and electrifying
the only body that makes me feel like this
but it is inaccessible
body language only.

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