broken glass embedded in backs
causing blood stains on crisp Calvin Klein shirts
from wrestling limbs on kitchen floors

licking ears as sassy retribution
for passive agression
and acts of contrition

greasy hair
unshaved legs

fur
on fur

mouth
on mouth

on moleskin
on holographic jewelry owned by us

bougie bohemians
highbrow artists
     --with--
low-maintenance interests that include

blow, opiates, fringed scarves, "velvety",
all the pills you can fist into your mouth,
a wannabe lou reed, your friends' band,
and **** **** ****** **** gallery openings.

Take a picture, it won't last as long as this work day
but we have to have our money for the water--after the eight ball and taxi, of course.

I need to stop thinking
                     about the way you tasted when
                     I kissed you

gripping your hair
gripping your ***

tracing an outline in your pants

while I quietly moaned

up against a wall

                this ***** is making me

thirsty

and there is something
insatiable

biting it's lips

in the

dark
        dark
dark

corners
of my bed

I'm sorry** that I hadn't met you sooner
I'm not sorry that I've met you now

I'm sorry that you feel pain from guilt
I'm not sorry that I pulled you in close

I'm sorry you don't know what happened
I'm not sorry you then kissed me back

I'm sorry that I don't want her to know
I'm not sorry that she doesn't know, now

I'm sorry you have a girlfriend
I'm not sorry for kissing you goodnight

I'm sorry you aren't single now
I'm not sorry I'll see you again, one night

last week's episode:
I look into the mirror, pink staining my hands and face
a pale shade of red inflicted by the incorrigible monster
(makes the pink tints of the world incredibly exhausting)

this week:
racked with fits, I plead

"
how many times
will I cry before I decide

you're too mean

to be all mine.

"

*******. *******. *******. *******. *******. *******. *******.
*******. *******. *******. *******. *******. *******. *******.

next week:**
I blow a smoke ring into another young man's face
before I incinerate his two closest relationships with women (sister and girlfriend)
by wrapping my legs around him, corrupting his senses and integrity

"You should've said 'no, I have a girlfriend'.
Instead you said nothing, which shows she isn't anything"

"I don't want realism I want magic"

                     lapping up liquor like a cat

and the man who loves me won't talk to me back
and the man who doesn't is the one I love

and he tells me of the girls he's dreaming of

the caked on makeup melts of my facade
as I spend all my money I saved for abroad

you're not clean enough for me
you're not mean enough to me

cold and heavy with illness and spite
there is no rest for the wicked this night

all I can thin k about is touching my index finger to my thumb
to make a circle

the three left extended

where
where
where did the appeal of everything go

?swept down the river of fermented potatoes and unanswered text messages

and the time differences between me and your arms.

You couldn't say sorry enough.
You couldn't say sorry enough.
to make you remember not to do it again.

I'm over the concept of a tumultuous relationship. I'm winded. Spine wounded around my bed.

Grasping for air.

You couldn't say sorry.
Enough.
I'll be kissing somebody's else's freckled shoulders when you call next.

I wonder
I wonder
I wonder

I.

If I tried to kiss you
when we are both drunk
if you'd kiss me back again

II.

If I showed up to a show
and you saw me from the stage
if it'd startle you enough

to realize I'd come back

I want to come back
and get you.

III.

If I stopped answering
you'd say what I've wanted you to.

IV.

If I kissed you in a way
that felt like more than a regular

If any of you boys would be worth it.
Would it be worth it?