I had a thought,
I knew it wasn’t right–
you’re too polite to be white.
You aren’t quite Caucasian
but a little bit Asian
and sabor de Mexico.

It’s the way you say "Hello
I hope you’re having a great day."
And a compliment or two
goes a long way.

Tell me what you like about me
and the things that I do
to you.
Send me **** pics on your phone.
Tell me you’ll be right over
when I’m home.

Deep emotional conversation
Is what I have with my best friend.
Sometimes I like to compartmentalize
and don’t need to know who, what or when.

Some salsa is nice--
or soy sauce with rice.
I’m lutefisk and apple strudel
and I’m hungry for  spice.

he always asked for permission.
not like a formality —
not the way someone asks
after they’ve already decided.
but like he meant it.
like my no
wouldn’t make him flinch.

and every time,
i said yes.
and felt his hands
move like they’d just been
gifted a map —
not to conquer,
but to understand.

even when his fingers slipped
under the hem of my shirt,
found the small of my back —
he paused.
and gave me a chance
to say no. it’s enough.

even when his hand
brushed against my bra strap,
barely there —
he whispered sorry,
as if the air between us
deserved an apology.

i didn’t ask,
if i could touch you
further up.

and that —
that’s what i remember.

not the way he kissed me.
not the taste of that night.
but the way his respect
intoxicated my mind.

looking back,
i think that was the moment
he opened me up,
let my feelings spill,
whilst keeping his own still.
and god.
i loved him for that.

oh the burning bush of desire

with the flames of divine revelation
she kindled the lascivious fire

an immense inferno of lewd invitation
luring prophets to their holy cremation

resembling the carnation nahema
its pulchritude blazed with elation

burning with the ardor of gehenna

he touched my arm
as he paid for his latte —
i smiled as he talked.
he’s going to budapest.
same time as me.

he asked if i could
recommend things to see.
easy.
the ruin bars,
the chain bridge.
the gellért baths,
if you like steam.

i could be your guide —
i didn’t say —
i know a great place
i could take you.
it doesn’t need a ticket.
conveniently,
it’s located
in my bedroom.

and now i’m drenched in desire.

feral and writhing at the hand that feeds me
and everyone always feeds me.

there’s no use in waiting
or wading in the grass

yet, i still feel the blades upon my back
every drop of wet wet dew caresses me
and the breeze shimmers me tauntingly.

now, i twist and contort at the touch of something new
and it rises up in me,
this new longing,
this new pining.

won’t you satisfy me?
won’t you give me what i deserve?

and i know that i will see you again
under the shade of the night
covered in sticky sweat
and love’s delight.

and until then,
nothing else will satisfy me.
nothing can compare.

and soon, so soon,
you will own my flesh
and you’ll have me, rare.

Gotta pull my hair back
But can't look too masculine
When I get on my knees
To **** his ****
Let the black mascara run
Down my pink cheeks
As I think about
Everything but this moment
He says he likes what he sees
He likes what he feels
My thighs are aching
****, no teeth
Well...maybe a little
Not like I'm gonna get anything
Probably sore knees and
A mouthful of ****
That tastes like bleach
I'll cry about it later
Have to finish strong
So he can finish strong
And prove the patriarchy
Really loves a ****
Who will get on her knees
Not a strong woman
Who stands on her feet

To be made pregnant

for love and not for a man --


who's just taking you.

my canines feel morphological
their sharpness cultivated to feast
and they seek every bone beneath your skin
burrowing in every square inch
eyes closed, face burning

i watch parts of me disappear
and your eyes, too
i smell pheromones
wherever i dig into
a need to get to the bottom
at any cost

we wrap around
our minds, each other
my hand, your neck
your legs, my hips

instincts i had long forgotten
taking over completely
desperate for the bones beneath
my teeth

Laura.  She tempts me much to self-abuse,
The sin of which is true love's evil twin.
I regularly sin by giving in,
Making a sock of fresh banana juice.
I struggle to resist, but what's the use
When future me will certainly begin
To tug himself (much to his own chagrin)
Thinking about her headlights and caboose?
The walnuts swell upon the walnut tree;
The sap is running—slimy walnut sap.
Her apples call my name.  They're teasing me.
The hardwood grows with vigor in my lap.
I burn to plant my seed deep in her V,
The garden of her earth, then take a nap.