I got the edge
So you better believe
The letters you received
Were never from me
I spend hours in apathy
I’m in monogamous relationship
In the afternoon
I take walks with silence
Under the moon
I enjoy the quite
No one intrudes
In this society
Because nobody touches me
And yes I get jealous,
But what did you expect.
I want your kiss, your touch,
I want every single one.
Okay, I love you,
I really didn't want to,
But I do.
And I don't know what to do.
I am a monogamous animal.
I want only one lover to be with.
And I want from you to feel the same way.
Vultures are monogamous.
Cragged necks looped,
it takes them years to forget.
Wing and wing in a nest of rot,
together they pick at sinew.
Fierce devotion in a hollow church
and no organs remained.
She will consume her dead lover,
spanned on an opalescent log;
regurgitate his remains into a baby’s mouth.
Born into the leftovers,
we become remains.
At the window sill
With what time took
Of the situation
Time pushed and pulled
The plush fabric of space
Like to two lovers intertwined
Between their lust
The stars burst
Masses of planetoids
And broke up
Time and Space
As far as we can tell
do they really feel the way
when they say "I love you"
soulful gaze expecting you,
while respecting you,
to undo inhibitions,
unfettered, no be still, my beating heart,
this may be too much, walk the fence
without falling into the wild monkey
cage with pillows and four poster dreams,
walk the line, be sure to be dressed in black,
oh caught in a fantasy NO!, escape to reality,
where there is trust and safety in a monogamous relationship.
what is sex anyway?
is it what two people do when they’re bored?
nothing better to do on a wednesday night?
Sex is just a killer of time.
or is sex what happens when the air is flooded
with the taste of too much whiskey?
can sex only happen when people are intoxicated?
Who cares, you probably won’t remember anyway.
isn’t sex to happen when the people love each other?
A night of sweaty passion that ends in “I love you”
who believes in sex after marriage anymore?
I was under the influence that sex was the ultimate act of love.
I’ve been wrong before.
'Nature is a whore.' - Kurt Cobain, writer of 'In Bloom'
Two fronts, hot and cold,
meet up a lot, make babies like rain
storms and their unmarried status
for the gossipers never gets old.
We wonder about their next
date and know it to be true when
more rain comes down and the
mornings are full of dew.
Bruises on the fruit from the unholy
relationship: Plants die when they fight
and rail. The makeup thunderstorms
come laced with hail.
And they are not monogamous. There
are many others taking
advantage of their positions
as a front. They find lightning to
be an aphrodisiac and use it
to preen and snap trees for attention.
Rain storms are temporary
aberrations, evidence of the demands
the fronts place on one another
in their 1-night stands.
'Have you ever done it to a woman before?'
My throat runs dry, suddenly I'm a fourteen year old boy
shoving my hands into my pockets
dumbly shaking my head.
'Do you want to?'
The boy shuffles feet and casts down his eyes.
Her eyes narrow.
My face suffuses with blood which
suffuses the air a startled electric pink.
The scent and hue are unmistakable.
I feel betrayed.
Don't come any closer.
She draws near. Her lips graze my left pinna.
I groan an ancient groan.
'I'm not going to make this... easy for you'
Her voice is more air than vowel and as thick as red meat.
I shut my eyes.
When I open them, hours later, I peer through my fingers
at the Straight Girl in the mirror
and wonder who keeps
changing the bloody rules.