It's just that everyone tries so hard to pass themselves off as very different from themselves, and I just wanted to drag you into yourself.

There was
No mercy
In your
Creation

It screams and thrashes
Nocturnal, writhing
Hungry for itself
Contradictory, insane
A little death
A massive tremor
Two backs
One beast
Are you ready to fuse?

In the end
We can pretend
It never happened

I like to run my fingertips
Through the sweat
On a new lover's back

I am a child
Finger painting
In your filthy labor

Bukowski's lovers
Liked to squeeze his blackheads
And write him letters

Boys from California
Aren't afraid to moan
During a good ****

I taste the sweat
With my fingers

You did such a good job