Jessica Snow
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Stories (10)
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Free
Free things come with a price tagAnd we are stricken with poverty.Some of us are so far in debtThat we cannot afford the time to waste.We cannot feed the minds of childrenBecause books and lockersCan't simply be borrowed.Freedom itself is a luxuryAnd many pay for it with their livesAs they've got nothing left to giveBut literal arms and legs,Pledges to a fiat cloth flagThat was more than likely made in China.We spend everything we canOn the cost of livingAt the cost of dying.
By Jessica Snow8 years ago in Poets
Fire
I know you are fire,And I am the ice...I'll melt if I play too close,But I trust you will not burn me.I will reach out for your flamesTo feel your warmth, your spark,And watch my fingers melt away.Your fire is everythingI've ever wanted.You burn so bright, so warm, so hot,Everything that I am not.You fire is hot, swift, and sweet,And I'm merely frosty snow and sleet.I am the Frozen TundraAnd you are the seven Hells.I know I will melt. I know. I know.But I've already melted, my dear,And perhaps you will freeze over.Won't you, won't you be my lover,And together, we will make a storm.
By Jessica Snow8 years ago in Poets
Home
Someone calls this place "home"When they return from being far awayFrom the twisting, winding roadsAnd the lights that flash at night.The same lights that reflect over the great lake,The lights that bring the ships to sleep,Those lights are guiding someone home.The winding roads that scale the hill,The mountain, the canyon, what have you...Cars zip by and twist and turn,Taking their drivers back home.As the night sky appears and the stars arrive,People forget to look out their windowsAt the great city beneath them.Ogle for a moment.Take it all in.This is your home, you are here every day,But what of the life below?
By Jessica Snow8 years ago in Poets
Animal
The scream of a wild cougarCan be heard in the bedroomConcerning the neighbors andMaking quite the scene.Her body twitches and convulsesWith every touch of her master's hand,Awakening her every sense.Her sense of desire, her sense of need,Her craving for the unknown and uncommon.Her bloodthirsty cries fill the airAnd cover the bed with each squirmAs she begs and screams, her soul being nourished.The cougar, the wolf, the beasts residing insideAll become unleashed, rampaging her coreAs the claw of the dominant beast slowlyCarves its way softly over her supple flesh.Hair a mess, skin painted with lines ofRed indents and welts,She looks to her predator through dampened hairAnd smiles. Thanking him with her eyes.The inner beast growls and thirsts,No longer prey, but leading her own packOf mischief, erotica, and pain.Sweet, sweet pain.
By Jessica Snow8 years ago in Poets
