wormhole to the floor, witch-lifted.
split inchoate rum & coke
pressed to throat enough
finds me glorious.
feed him my body little pieced,
washed & wrapped in gilt eye
-liner & alka-seltzer. sweet
twitch of pansy petals from my
hair our mouths the only un-
pronounced hulk in the room (more…)
What do you say to a ghost at the door?
Even if I don’t answer, it finds a way in
‘”How are you?”
“Weary. A little horny. The usual.”
hisses echo in
and i am awakened…
pleased to drown
in your moonless waters
obsidian in your eyes.
upon reflection, it may be
why i let you come
within on many occasions
despite ideal prudence
pleasure was persistent, (more…)
“…along with the cat suit.”
Naturally, he proceeds to high-five his flat-brimmed buddy
then soaps his large hands clean in the stainless steel sink.
High on the urinal-caked fog, hypnotized by such ugly
green tile, I am suddenly numbed by the echo of their clap.
Such music in his diction! The fescue of his big dick!
Bestiality is halfway normal, when you think about it.
Did he realize this halfway in, or halfway out?
How unique, too, this cat raised by dogs, a channel of discovery
all its own. Rhetorical sex must be pretty lousy, a general rule of
dewclaw. They must be terrible fucks, right? I flush. (more…)