"cervix" poems
Given up, deluxe in Essex
Cornwall, seaside Fortress
Stonehenge, felt the Vortex
One Vision, one idle Apex
Kiss the Haven Sanctum ******
Diligently Lingers the Finger Remix
Vibrate the ring tho Rung Her Nexus
Into New Blue , You beg the Context
Of seeming NonSense, hum my Edifice
I'll give You This, oh humble Tread
I've past the Veil, many lives I've Led
Memory to Full to sustain, Unfurled
This Nomenclature not of this World
Do you want Me? Come then, Explore
Rich, sweet, then Sour, Drink More
Intoxicate, bubbled deep risen the Core
She is Ancient, She is bled, of Iron Ore
Cleanse your Palette, taste must never
Mix, or coagulate, congeal, or Root
Fluidic Fauna, Flower Sauna, Resolute
Cleanse, release into Her, Ashen Soot
Absolute Sanctuary, must enter, Barefoot
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 9:34 PM UTC
Not even kidding.
I have been in the throes
of a sort of mid-life crisis,
because I can't have
any more babies.
I ******* LOVE BABIES
My best friend is pregnant
right now. Soooo pregnant.
It's ******* adorable.
And I, I am unable to have
ANY MORE BABIES.
BUT I LOVE BABIES.
No **** you guys,
I really like to have babies.
I am *******
GOOD AT HAVING AWESOME BABIES.
My ****** was like
baby ******* paradise.
And I just had
a miniature midlife crisis
over the fact that
I had to use the word
"was" right there.
If I still had that ******
I would be forced
to use multiple layers
of protection
to ward off fertilization, and
MORE BABIES.
I LOVE BABIES.
I can gestate like a ************
Oh wait, maybe
more like a ****** mother,
YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
******* BABIES!
And when I give birth,
I do it kamikaze style,
with only a couple minutes
notice for the attending physician.
BLINKED? OH NO, SORRY
DR. ************
YOU ******* MISSED IT!
Back when I had a ******
like last year,
I was fertile
like a thing that is incredibly fertile.
You had to put an army
between me and my ******
or some **** would go on
and I would be all,
oh! A new kid!
That's inconvenient!
But man,
you know,
you birth a child,
it's insanely difficult
on a level incomprehensible
to anyone who hasn't done it,
you work through it.
And then ******* hell,
you're the mother
of 3 teenagers
and your very productive
****** is all
**** YOU, SERIOUSLY?
And you put it out of
your misery, and then,
a few months later,
you think
it would be nice to have another baby.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
*Perched upon the peasant’s altar
Anomalous, conglomerate, anorexic, and onyx
The concubine’s cake with the Oxford comma,
Communal and picked and eaten at by little birds
Nominal trauma oozes visceral
****** and break
Sever and break
Steep walls of amorphous clay
Congeal to the walls of the willow
Exquisite and infinite, infidel
Flight
****** Lo, light of my life,
Long hair dripping with whiskey*
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 12:11 AM UTC
I can tell you’re feeling nervous,
I can feel it near your ******
But you’re fine, you’re doing perfect,
I’d like to thank you for your service,
I am seven inches deep,
And I’m hurting you on purpose,
My **** puts you to sleep,
With the excitement of a circus,
I hit the spot, you make a peep,
I think that moan of yours is perfect,
You’re a snack, I’m a treat,
Today the lust is lurking.
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 6:02 PM UTC
I shake like a drooling fool,
exhale a snore
am spent as my drizzle creeps towards her ******
The loose flesh of me weighed down upon her,
but she wasn't there
She was running through fields of fresh emerald spears,
chases the wild horses of Patagonia
never catches them as she is overrun
carried away by the stallions from behind,
blooms a water lily opens and closes over and over,
Cereus opens with the touch of the Moon over and over,
feel the dust hear the waves of trampling hooves
as her face, a tense string,
shatters into an open mouthed smile and shout of,
"I am life, and you are the most blessed of creatures, here.
I am the glamor of everything.
I am Mother Earth in this moment,
screaming, fitting, wailing, quaking, coming.
Your diminishment has made this possible.
Bathe in the spinning cradle of life,
and stay still before you retreat from it."
May 1, 2011
May 1, 2011 at 7:15 AM UTC
truck-bedded teens smoke leaves above the tree branch cathedral;
treefort,
& fumes from her lips. her lips/
crush me oh my.
climb down to the street.
snap into a slim jim.
smash into a television.
skateboard kids:
blackboy bent into dust and old motel.
whiteboy with fireworks spitting modern mallrat jazz.
girls of stuffed tiger and bottles shattered,
by blood
by beer
by now. she dreams
of the coast henceforth
& grips glass to imagine it like good futures.
/bong-hit.
/swallow the pizza.
into the arcade ******
like denim jackets and the mohawked-heads of foul foolish boys.
like little sister vanished into the music.
she presents her flesh before needled ink in the neon-rung afterlife.
she tongues flame.
she thumbs for fame and a highway to california.
she speaks in tongues to win enough tickets for the big panda bear.
her boyfriends punch faces in parking lots.
their generations gather at the apricot tree.
they pull at the seams of eachother’s tricky slips,
& watch hyenas tear through the trash
in the lawn across the street.
old factory:
old shrine of sky & night & bottles & bottlerockets
& her hair & us.
take the bus, or
walk the paths of backyards, home.
sneak thru the window,
cracked lip and shower.
to appear,
in a sunday dress.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 6:34 AM UTC
mediante la obscuridad , escondes el deseo ,
tu imagen de fria e inalcanzable , contrasta con
la humedad perceptible entre tus piernas .
bajo el relieve , el pliegue erogeno , en tu ropa intima ,
tu piel erizada bajo mis dedos tibios y decididos .
la reaccion aterida de tu piel erizandose ,
al mirar el fuego en mis ojos .
el vaticinio del desden post coitum , la humedad en mi pelvis , tu aroma en torno al tornillo que sostiene mi vida , la humedad en mi pelvis ,
rastro de tu cabalgata en mi regazo agradecido .
lo lascivo de tus ojos sosteniendo mi mirada ,
recorrer con mis dedos , las inperfeciones de tu piel
lo imposible de tu belleza , la certeza de tu deseo , la febril mirada
el eco en mi cabeza , que repite una cantinela , la perorata del perdedor
buscando certeza , el garre firme de tus manos , sosteniendo las mias
el eco en mi cabeza que repite , LUCKY ******* , COMO UN MANTRA DE FUERZA .
repitiendo ecos de torzion , lazos de deseo entre vistazos de
tus ojos bellos , ecos del perdedor , para tener un recuerdo de ese momento de esa fantasia .
tu ferocidad contrasta con lo frio de tu piel , y la frialdad con
que diriges tus ojos como laser .
mediante la obscuridad que despliegas para esconder el
deseo postumo .
ahogados los clamores de tu ****** , vuelves al juego , donde la indiferencia y la frialdad son tu moneda de cambio .
solo que en tus ojos , llevas aun rastros del fuego que sacas de mi alma
de mis entrañas de mis genitales , asi te llevas lo mejor de mi ,
mi semilla mi sudor y mi alma , entre tus piernas y en tus uñas un poco de mi piel , y en tu mente mi recuerdo , el eco funesto de haber amado y seguir amando a un loser ,
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 2:43 AM UTC
the doctor scratched notes with his pencil describing our heartbeats
our veins spread through our bodies in little lines
our bodies were a blank manuscript of life
pages of measurements
Mother's ******
Mother's stomach
still in the process of being written,
our DNA and chromosomes silently orchestrated themselves as we awaited our own arrival
suspended in profound silence as we rested,
counting down to the moment when we
would
break
the sound barrier
(ii.) silence
the doctor will scratch notes with his pencil describing our last heartbeats
wrinkles will be spread across our bodies in little lines
our skin a dead manuscript of beauty that once was and music that will never be heard again
so many
pages
with no blank spaces
detailing
what time
how
where
we will make no sound
our ultimate beat of breath (final word) is naught but a distant memory
suspended in the minds of our loved ones
as our internal metronome is laid to rest
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC
I put a baby inside
Of the belly of my Bonney lass bride
Twice
Say the ****** covered by placenta
Looking through her *** to deaths eye
She may live he may die
He may live I'll lose my wife
Through the cream pie I stare down death
Between her ***** holds hemorrhage and life
Bleeding down her c-section
The acreted blood sac could cause infection
Already has
My baby gave multiple blood poisoned hits to her kidney
He's already a fighter I think he'll beat me up. He's going to come out with bigger boots than mine, prolly a bigger ****
Hope they both make it.
I can't fix it
My hands are tied in the cervical opening, my minds wrapped in the emboli cal cord, and my fingers are twiddling thumbs nauseously in Beccas ******
I should take Lornhes place in the amniotic fluid and gag myself in the fetal position
Or I could do what no one does these days.
Be a man of character.
Show him passion, knowledge, courage, and integrity.
Be a Father.
P.S. Son. All dads are letdowns, when you read this one day. I hope I have done my best. I Love You.
Lendon Partain
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
I want you like the Colorado clouds
want to pour rain over the Californian desert.
Please, I am thirsty. Quench me.
Let me drink your nectar — it tastes like sunshine.
Loyally I will suckle your pistil,
even after the reason you ignored me did.
Relax — I want you...at ease.
It's OK — I want you...happy.
Don't worry — I want you...dreaming.
Come to bed with me
Grab my cheeks and squeeze them.
I am a child.
Tell me my eyes are galaxies
you want to swim in.
Your breath tastes like stale beer
but I steal kisses selfishly.
They tickle my ******
short-circuiting me to a cloud.
I am in your cloud.
I am rain.
Cross the ridge and
let me pour.
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
marrow is restless
decaying in it's own boredom
swaddled in the uncertain
shells of rigid lifestyles,
determined to hold this meat
husk up, resolute in assuming
its role as the foundation
for a great church (to be laid
down, no words uttered, as her
****** made plain to be the alter,
her pain in providing the fruitful
womb her apparent penitence
for the sin of not being born bearing,
proudly, a ***** to punish with).
marrow is restless
with cells that divide & die off
to continue the straight & narrow
path to marriage, to God, to
righteousness, to be citizens upheld
by morality, that multiply & die off.
marrow is restless
of endless toil
with profits withheld
until returned from whence it came;
ashes to ashes.
restless of the only goal:
to carry itself
from the gates of a mother's legs
into the gates of the Father's arms.
Marrow is restless
of
One purpose One use One end.
of
a son's cannibalism, a spirit's contempt, a father's genocide.
of
only living to please another.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 9:55 PM UTC
acallado el fuego,
imperecedero, y la
sed de tu piel, saciada
con creces.
vacilante nunca, pues
tus ojos brillan,de placer,
deseo, satisfaccion total
y absoluta.
la humedad en mi pelviz,
el brillo sedoso, y agridulce
en mi regazo de leon amado.
y por un momento, justo en
ese momento, estoy completo,
sereno, amado, deseado, una
bestia plena, serena, agradecida.
la pena, el dolor, la ira y su desidia,
y el latrocinio brutal, son solo escollos
borrados con la humedad de tu ****
vacilante es aquella, que no ha amado,
su mentira es una cruz pesada, oscura,
fatua, inerte, su alma jamas podra amar,
bajo el falo divino.
en cambio, tus ojos, verdad, amor y ventura,
amando un imposible, y aun asi amando,
los estertores de tu ****** amada, besada,
penetrada, tierna y ferozmente, son el eco
del fuego chocando con el mar, provocando la vida,
el vapor, que riega la tierra, que genera el ciclo troffico
de la vida, fuego y agua, vapor de vida, pasion,
entre dos bestias, bellas y amadas.
tu miel y tu deseo, SALVAJE, intenso,
perenne, son vitales en la soledad,
de una bestia de montecristo, que solo, acarrea
el daño y el dolor, de las traiciones,
cada corte y puñalada, me hicieron el
hombre fuerte, que ahora soy.
indestructible, y viviendo, amando
imposibles, destruyendo la mentira,
acabando con las debilidades, de los que solo
mienten, llenos de odio, envidia y rencor,
por haber perdido el tornillo que sujeta
nuestra vida.
luego de eso, y por sus debilidades, montecristo
es vencedor, una bestia con corazon, que aprendio
a amar, lo imposible y lo posible, a desaparecerse
en el otro, envuelto en su luz, y su belleza, y la
debilidad y maldad de aquellas chicas mondego,
solo apuraron la debacle, me bato solo
frente a sus errores, riendo y contestando
a las mentiras, sus mentiras y anatemas,
se volvieron en su contra, la verdad limpio el agua,
y el fuego hizo el vapor, completando el ciclo de vida.
asi, mediante el deseo, y la mutua pasion, ocurrioze
lo imposible, en pos de la vida, y el amor.
la quimera del deseo, nunca borro, aquella vez
que nos tocamos, a pesar de las diferencias, plenos,
salvajes.
generando el vapor, cogiendo, gruñendo, bramando,
en mi mente y en la tuya, el mismo deseo,
la inconmesurable verdad, nuestra verdad,
y la incomprensible mentira, fatua, el eco de lo falso,
y sus mentiras infecciosas, corrompiendo, y enlutando
lo que siempre fue luz y vida.
la falsa nocion de amor, en el yerro, y sus
secuazes, con su engaño de la no aceptacion,
la necedad, u la locura, fatuos oscuros incompletos.
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 1:09 AM UTC
La ferocidad de un coito,
Y ese fuego apagado en tu
****** de leona, te une y
te completa,
y la luz de tus ojos, y el
Brillo intenso que mana
De tu alma, me conecta
A ti
A tu deseo, a tu alma
Brillante y adorada.
Eres el fuego y el agua,
Bajo mis dedos, ardes
y apagas el fuego, y tu
Pliegue erogeno se expande
Para mi
Lleva mi nombre,
Como tatuado por tu
Alma, como si tu corazon
Lo hubiera impreso,
Y brillas completa y amada,
Bajo mis garras de Leon,
ese Leon que es tuyo,
Y adorada te ves en mis
Garras
Completa y amada, y
tus ríos se abren para
Mi, y yo bebo de ellos,
Como si fueras el agua mas
Pura
Y en tus ojos, esa luz que te
Pertenece como mi espada
Samurai, y el espacio que
las diabla dejaron en mi pecho
Y el vapor que sale de nuestros
Cuerpos al unirnos, es el
Resultado de tu **** hermoso y
Adorado, que oh MUDRAS HERMOSAS
y adoradas sellan mi energía,
Y nos comunica con el padre, y
Somos uno, y te amo bajo su
Energía, conectados a EL.
y bajo sus ojos y en su
Energía, te llenas de luz,
Y asciendiendo vas llegando a
ese hermoso despertar,
y tu pliegue erogeno, es
besado y adorado, y cuando
entro con fuerza, siento que
llego a casa, y que me perteneces
Y tu piel blanca de alabastro
Lleva mi nombre, un nombre
que es tuyo.
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 4:13 PM UTC
we never want to see
our child die before us
and we still pray to precede them
after seeing them die many times
*****
you've died right before my eyes
too many times for me to count
God knows i wasn't prepared this time
to see that glazed look in your eyes
with lids that i couldn't close
as they slammed upon tears that fell like stone
crashing upon brittle locks
that shattered like illusions installed
to protect my little girl from a ******
weakened by a familiar predator
that God knew long before
we ever joined to color by numbers
each recanting of you being pushed down
then smothered by the dead weight of ****
started a death rattle so pronounced
that i reached out to leave with you
God knows we will make it through this
as you psychologically pass from me once again
to mourn aside a grave marked for this event
on the eve of the sunrise of your empowerment.
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 3:57 PM UTC
amidst cavorting delightfully, enjoying thorough
frolicking gingerly, foreign hick hating slo
hip-hopping insouciantly sustaining row
biological status quo
kvetching lamely moreso mother became pro
naturally physically rumbling,
heard all the way in Oslo
supposedly twerking, undulating vivaciously
wantonly x2c wisely yielded – nada no
zona pellucida anchored byte size ******
potent embryonic fetal moe
newlweds nocturnal merriment
moma's ****** marked march 1959
lovingly joyusly, insemination happened ha low
bullseye clenched diploid fertilization
guaranteed germinating heiress
while squaqking lichen Apache at Diablo
ma late mother did should know
upon awakening upon tautly stretched exertion
during dilating ****** which jiggled like jello
three score orbitz round el sol, warmed cockles
and muscled away brutally cold degrees
tab billed an igloo,
or circa six decades
drafted exuberant ho...ho...ho...
cuz, i.e. thencee at 362nd day
baby in belly did fully grow
December first nineteen fifty seven
sanctioned newly minted papa
to sing a capella for he's a jolly good fellow
quintessential nascent
kickstarter heady everflow
though wintry dark,
a “hi” beam illuminated
newborn girl with dayglow
sans, mechanical engine ear
papa (an honorably discharged army vet)
all spit and shine groom,
who wed a bride somewhat callow
first time parents with giddiness did saul fully bellow
Boyce and Harriet Harriet countenance
twas (like an elf on Christmas eve) all aglow.
--------------------------------------------------------
Dear Sis – I knew not what else to do
thus, this poem crafted fur ewe
a doe ting maternal gal – whose time on Earth flew
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 1:09 AM UTC
silence the everlasting
fire, and the thirst of
your skin, well satisfed.
never doubtfull, your eyes
shine of placer, desire, and
complete satisfaction.
humdty in my pelvis, the
silky and sour shine, in the
lap of this gratefull and loved
lion.
and for a minute,
just in that moment, im
complete, serene, loved, wanted,
a full beast, serened and thankfull
the sorrow, the pain, and fouling acts,
and the brutal theft, are just bumps,
overcomed, erased with the humidity
of your ***
doubtfull is the one, that
has not loved, her lie is a heavy
cross, dark, fatal, deadly, her soul
will never love beneath the divine
phalus.
in return, your eyes, truth,
love and venture, loving an
impossible, but loving even so,
stertores of your loved and
kissed ******
penetrated, softly and ferouciously,
are the echo of the fire, crashing the
sea, making life, steam, watering the
earth, generating the trofhic cicle,
of life, fire and water, steam of life,
passion between two beasts,
beautiful and loved.
your honney and your
desire, WILD, intense,
evergreene, are vitals,
for a beast of montecristo,
that just drags, harm and pain,
of betrayal, every cut, every scratch,
every stabing, made of me, the strong man
that y am.
unbreakcable, and living, loving impossibles
destroying the lies, ending the weakness
of layars, full of hate, and envy,
for losing that, holding our
lives.
after that, and for their weakness
montecristo is the winner, a beast
with a heart, learning to love, the possible
and the impossible, to dissapear in the other,
rapped in her ligth, and her beauty,
the evil and weak of the mondego girls,
only speed up, their catastrophy,
y stand alone before their mistakes, and their
lies and anathems, turn against them,
truth clean the waters, and the fire make the
steam, that generates life, makng a full cicle.
so, threw desire, and mutual passion,
impossible happens, in the name of life,
and love, the desire quimera, could never erase
the time we touch, dispise the difference
full and wild.
generating steam, making life,
roaring, ******* groaning, and
in my mind and in yours, the same
desire, the overwelming truth, our truth,
and the incompresible lie, vain, the
echoes of the false, and ther infectious lies,
corrupting wath was always life.
the false notion of love, and their
acomplisses, with her conning, and the
not aceptacion, vain or insane,
dark, crazy and
incomplte.
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 1:59 AM UTC
I read in one of Van Gogh’s letters to his brother Theo, that one day people will look at his paintings and say “he felt things deeply and tenderly”.
I see one of his paintings and my body shakes in his short brush strokes. uncontrollably. I see one of his paintings and his suns twirl in my head’s ******
I read that in the Middle Ages, they debated on whether or not to remove female seeds, so that the child does not suffer from excess of emotions.
Hysteria is born out of the womb, I look the etymology in the eye as I hold my pen to my womb
I stab it three times, but the words are still there. I see that I still am, so I stab my heart instead….
I bleed out Art .. Art .. Arteries, the etymology stares me back in the lungs. My pen drops dead.
Dec 26, 2017
Dec 26, 2017 at 12:46 PM UTC
Brisk--
a slight whisp of northern wind
rustles rainbow dewdrop grass,
around me, blooming trees
breathing deeply inward,
their fresh foliage is an assortment
of all green hues, a relief
from the freezing, chill drab grays of winter...
Dandelions splotch [arts of the grass--
nature's lazy Jackson Pollack homage.
The sun seems brighter,
the lighting a stereotypical 1950's Leave It to Beaver-esq TV show.
Here I sit,
wearing all black under a tree;
the only thing colorful about me is the gold writing
on this Pilot jet black pen dribbling these words
in gooey black ink.
I woke feeling uneasy & forlorn,
like rising from a haunted bed.
Not sure why...
Even the dogs in this park trot
with brighter velocity.
A small grey/brown Scottie yipps at me,
as if letting everyone know I'm an anomaly
on this otherwise perfect day.
Part of me wants to scream
at all the people in their colorful neon running garb
or shimmering salvation Sunday cloth,
but another part just wants to jam this pen
through my ****** straight into my heart
& let the ink & my crimson, iron-rich blood seep
into the ground,
because those are the closest feelings
I've found to express something there are no words for.
Sounds like it might be one of those angsty
cloudy type days.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 1:27 PM UTC
or like two people
unifying ************
two hands! two hands!
one hand! one hand!
oh look... no hands!
veal common tour iran:
here's an apple,
here's a punch.
it's not fair... she gets a *******
***** and i have no other anomaly
for the **** of the giggly *****
asks the foetus for twins
in between ****** and september.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 8:30 PM UTC
When I think of you,
I think of your ******
I feel it from within
when it's swollen
like a balloon.
I feel its ******
like a bone volcano.
Where did it go?
Where did it go.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 6:30 AM UTC
lower abdominal area gurgles and balloons
gastrointestinal tract
vis a vis flatulence croons
in tandem and/or subsequent expulsion
eliminates ***** waste
witnessing sprinting to bathroom, this scribe
(against time) and jet propulsion
of sphincter muscles'
spasmodic desperately raced
unpleasant symptom of anxiety/ panic attack
twas a stranger to this rhyme stir,
who now finds himself barrack
cay did, and held hostage, where thoughts
about mooning doth not crack
a smile, or baring derriere tubby more exact
me up - matter of fact
no source of laughter, nada one ha intact
(despite usual presence of chuckles
from this fan of good humor) high jacked
for what seems a maternity leave
from all mothers tub be
thus envision, a bevy of pregnant gals
aching with cramps he
ving (times square of the hippopotamus)
with ****** fully dilated key
ping alert, when mother nature ready
to pull up all stops (via umbilical cord)
to deliver nee,
sans bundle of joy, followed
in quick succession with after birth re:
placental sack, hence said effort to expel newborn
the closest scenario experience ill suited to dance
afflicting this anxiety prone lovely bones, an all expanse
paid (seat of the pants) accursed bane of proletariat grants
no truce to attend finds me pampered asper this rants!
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 7:37 PM UTC
i feel fear as a rule,
it grows in my ****** like a perennial,
baby's breath if you're lucky
i crawl because i feel fear as a rule
i can feel the weight of my blood and
it pulls my viscera to the ground (all the way to my grave)
all my limbs contort and they abandon me.
the smell of cherries and beer draws me to the kitchen and she draws me out and upstairs
it is so strange to me to occupy such space
why have i grown if i am a child?
the smell of cherries and beer draws me to the kitchen
she draws me out, upstairs, kissing, pulling hair, again
again. again. again.
again as a rule
May 15, 2017
May 15, 2017 at 7:11 PM UTC
dances between the dimensions.
like stepping into a pool,
she is immersed
to every crevice
of her body.
she can drink it down
into her ******
it resonates in its chamber
she feels like a phonograph
skreaming and shaking
then laughing
then more.
peel the light off of our bodies.
hang it to make a tent.
a tent to live and die inside of.
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 10:31 PM UTC
clinging to only that which we can remember
only the imprint of something too bright that has been stared at for too long
we bump fleshes
we meld corpses
the mixing of secretions
until i end up covered in yours
i am not sure you see me anymore
but it pains me little for i am not sure i see you either
like a well worn fidget, a subconscious pull of the lobe or the twirl of a piercing,
or perhaps more like your instinctual grab at the farthest recesses of your fridge upon coming home positively toasted
through liquor soaked lenses i aimlessly ***** at the past while sober me of tomorrow awakes with nothing but the echo of something within
temporally filling the void between lips and ******
the void of my gut
of my heart
but a throbbing shadow remains
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 3:07 PM UTC