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Sharpen the knife by whetstone, walk to the shore, hold the blade perpendicular to the fat belly blanketed with tiny mirrors glinting sun into your eyes Find the bridge decorated in promise locks cast a net, prime your tongue squeeze air from your lungs into gurgling words decorating her ears, be impossible be the everything lock yourself inside as a habit as the indispensable limb Scrape scales with the cutting edge, send them flying in the air landing like lily-pads breaking the surface of salt-water Touch your roughest hand to the softest palette of the face with knuckles first tenderly like a mother and then violate in flight, land harshly crush the rosy palette into a cacophony of betrayal on the cheek, corrupt the soft curve of the lip decorate the chest in crimson, cut out trust from deep inside her womb Bathe the memory in a white tub kissed by carmine, let it flow down the hypnotizing hurricane drain through hair-matted pipes. His after-shave knuckle tenderness will perfume the steam, permeate your memories make home deep inside capillaries Wash the fish in the Atlantic – let it kiss its forehead, puncture the gut with the ****** end, pull back, let crimson blood and iron perfume spill in globules onto emptying tides washing out to sea Dawn crab will come to the shallows, eat the scraps with their pincers. In the morning gulls recognize backs hunched over by the water, swoop down Pull out the curved hook from your cheek dragging you in matrimony drop the shredded robe of sinew and worth, leave the tatters on the bathroom floor Go to her in the evening sew the pretty back together into a quilt, stain it with ****** knuckles and kiss her goodnight into resentment Others will come into your life, one will recognize the perpetual circling in the epicentre, swing prayers into your centrifuge of consequence and pull out the spears from your chest, mend broken hopes straighten the shattered bones into a home indispensable to him and show you simply, Love
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Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 9:37 AM UTC
How to gut a fish
Sharpen the knife by whetstone, walk to the shore, hold the blade perpendicular to the fat belly blanketed with tiny mirrors glinting sun into your eyes Find the bridge decorated in promise locks cast a net, prime your tongue squeeze air from your lungs into gurgling words decorating her ears, be impossible be the everything lock yourself inside as a habit as the indispensable limb Scrape scales with the cutting edge, send them flying in the air landing like lily-pads breaking the surface of salt-water Touch your roughest hand to the softest palette of the face with knuckles first tenderly like a mother and then violate in flight, land harshly crush the rosy palette into a cacophony of betrayal on the cheek, corrupt the soft curve of the lip decorate the chest in crimson, cut out trust from deep inside her womb Bathe the memory in a white tub kissed by carmine, let it flow down the hypnotizing hurricane drain through hair-matted pipes. His after-shave knuckle tenderness will perfume the steam, permeate your memories make home deep inside capillaries Wash the fish in the Atlantic – let it kiss its forehead, puncture the gut with the ****** end, pull back, let crimson blood and iron perfume spill in globules onto emptying tides washing out to sea Dawn crab will come to the shallows, eat the scraps with their pincers. In the morning gulls recognize backs hunched over by the water, swoop down Pull out the curved hook from your cheek dragging you in matrimony drop the shredded robe of sinew and worth, leave the tatters on the bathroom floor Go to her in the evening sew the pretty back together into a quilt, stain it with ****** knuckles and kiss her goodnight into resentment Others will come into your life, one will recognize the perpetual circling in the epicentre, swing prayers into your centrifuge of consequence and pull out the spears from your chest, mend broken hopes straighten the shattered bones into a home indispensable to him and show you simply, Love
Inspired by a good friend and some personal history, this is a piece meant to be read by two voices (one male, one female). I will in the next few months record an audio version of this as it was meant to be heard.
johnlopes
Written by
40/Cisgender Male
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 9:37 AM UTC
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