sitting under St. Andrew’s
arch, naked feet on stone flags,
painted toenails       i prefer
green but
for you i picked red

you could rival
the prince of cats
                      with your barbed cock,
                                your pierced prick
that i never saw
           never will see   still stuck   in another

you will never see the crescent moon
between my legs

my mouth is open     empty so
i fill it with smoke
that soothes the sounds
stuck
          in my gullet.

i hope my burnt lungs
             my tar-stained tissue
disgusts you

 

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A queer poet based in Norwich, England, Blythe Zarozinia Aimson is currently studying MA in Creative Writing: Poetry at UEA. They are interested in exploring queerness and mental illness in their work, as well as the occult and uncanny. They have completed a collection of poetry generated using Tarot cards.