Raw illness rubs up
Against the wet meat of my
Indecisive tongue

and

I am sick with the
Taste of his filthy fingers
Snagging on my jaw

and

Honeysuckles bloom
Around the places that kept
Me from crying out

and

The air was too sweet
To explain why his breath felt
Like death’s brand across
My arched and aching
Spine. He ripped open my soft
Flesh and consumed me.

i feel like a car crash
like fiberglass dust ground into
blood stains sticking to my tshirt there is
nothing left but the way that i feel
dizzy, like my bones have shifted an inch to the left
and the rest of me forgot to follow
i feel out of it, lost in a sea of
burning rubber and smoking engine
grease
i feel like my weight has been lifted and i am
floating into space, like
the universe made room for me in her arms and i am
ascending to the outer reaches of
life
and everything,
everything is chaos
this entropy settles into my skin and i am
reaching outward, trying to find a tactile response to my
existence,
trying to figure out how i know this is
reality and not a coma dream.
i am endlessly screaming into this void,
devoid of faith and lost to sensation
i am learning.
i am learning what it is like to be
found
not safe, not sound, but
here.
i am the embodiment of dark matter love and
here i lay, awaiting the moment when you say that i can come
home.

i am nothing but
meat, pinkslick pockets of what
the stars have wasted
nestled rosytight
galaxies swimming in my
bluegreen dust channels
let the rest of me
rot, fraying bits slowly peel
back to show the bone

i hate you and it is almost
******;; the way that i want to
destroy you from the ground up,
flay your flesh from your bones and
watch your blood coagulate in the hot summer sun it is
cold
where your body lays
buried beneath mimosa pudica so preciously planted
i love the way your hardened body becomes pliant
to the touch
my warm blooded fingertips pressing into your sides
and if i had a **** i'd destroy your body
more thoroughly
**** your spitslick opening
more roughly than with the use of a finger
or three
which opening am i referring to
the one i create
with a knife and a flick of the wrist
right between your ghostrib and the meat of your stomach
i find it to be
most pleasant to the ear
that wet moistmaking slop of a cavern
and i want to put my tongue to it
so carefully
tasting your inner screams and whats left of your soul
stuck inside that rotting meat it cries
for help and i am your mother
rich in my love and rich in my hatred for the uncouth young
way your body wraps around my quivering flesh
my indecisive muscle
ambivalently traverses the planes of your abdominals
and my fingers follow, stained black with
your bile
i love the texture of your
insides
smooth against my calloused
touch
your faded whimpers echo in my ear and i am
ecstatic
i've clipped your wings
and you are my pet now
my gorgeous gangrene wild animal
to keep and to care for
and i love you
i am your mother and i love you

there is poetry inside of your skin. find the madness that forms words and cling to it.

find the girls with soft skin, all pink and wet and meatslick on the inside. open them up again and again and again, between her thighs and a thousand smiles to god.

find that fuckery inside you which gives off the airs of someone holier than thou and strangle it. give up on affectations and disregard your own thoughts of superiority.

watch the shadows in your veins, watch them bleed darker and darker between the crooks and corners of your hand and follow them into the depths of your elbows, into the folds we cannot reach or see. do not be afraid of these dark creatures that are swimming in your bluegreen dusk channels. they buzz under your skin and you must cut them free.

do not be afraid, for you are nothing but this body.

plush fat drips down from

the swollen wounds i have claimed

make me beautiful