"pussing" poems
sunscreen , wet cement. i taste sweat
at the collarbone crevice below yr neck. all of us
hot spring eyes , pussing blisters bleeding down
naked heels. it's ******* hot here in the shade
of heaven. i want off the ride
popping pimples at the bathroom sink
yellowing from the blood , from the dirt we
pick up by touching each other
but i run the tongue , baby, the whole
apartment smells like a bath bomb. i need
to burst open beneath your mouth, slice the grape fruit in
thin pieces. imagine the day when my hair grows back:
then we'll know suffering has learned to love the space
under the bed
where our bodies used to be
so in this night terror
i play the fishnet stockings of a long
legged woman. struggling against
them, you drown between my thighs
like this. we squirm in the humidity of the night
like this.
then in the next,
i go missing at a family party and you look for me,
i'm waiting to surprise you in a childhood closet, i'm in
the kitchen washing dishes so you get to put yr hands
around me. the world knows i'm in love with you so no one
will complain.
and every terror begins as gentle as this, when
you round the corner to the bathroom and i'm in
the tub. what are you doing
i'm smiling
what are you doing
what does it look like i'm doing
that funny little animal , how badly you want it
to be out loud. then we can't paint the goat blood on our
door, we can't let god pass us over. yr knees are locked
and my veins are loaded. here, you hold the gun. the lamb
is ready for slaughter.
a bunch of empty guts, some tylenol buried
in clammy hands you come in an hour
back to knock on the door: i told
them you got sick
thank you
don't come home tonight
thank you
i powder my nose and the holiday
lights are strung before thanksgiving. you
will keep climbing mountains with the blonde
arm hairs of the glad hearts. you are too good to
go looking in lower places;
you are too good to **** a hound of hell.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC
Shielf yorself
From others hate
For those arrows are sharp
And always penetrate
Even through the adrenaline
You might not feel it
But the wound is there
Pussing and peeling
Shield yourself
From enemies hatae
For it's not worth
The furure pain
Dec 22, 2011
Dec 22, 2011 at 8:46 AM UTC
A deep and sprawling swell
Crept its fingers deep and well
Around my stomach as it fell,
And rose. Each breath a tell,
She's alive. She is well.
Despite a heart that ceased to beat,
Molded to tawny and rusted to effete,
That despite all attention and treat
Leaked a pussing and steady gleat
That could not help but secrete.
Though I wrapped wrapped my wounds with my hair
Where once hands grasped my neck, wet and bare,
Cocooning deep in skin without care
while I, unaware,
Opened lips and gasped in ecstasy. Or despair
As he shut my mouth, shut my eyes.
Made me convert, communed and baptized.
In making me what he wants, made me what he despised.
Leaves me, but one kiss and leaves, and my heart dies.
****** from the start for what I not knew,
Now I'm ****** for what I do.
A knowledge i never sought to accrue,
Wasted. Through.
****** by me for being ****** by you.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 6:36 PM UTC