Crown of Claws @palegentleman - Tumblr Blog

Stop, 2016.

#Ian-John Coughlan #ianjohncoughlan #poetry #minimalism

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Unity. Simplicity. Purity.

#ianjohncoughlan #poetry #minimalism

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You have emptied the wet contents of your chest into the palms of a boy

Who will never be your lover because he loves only demigods, statues.

But when the stars are dim, he kisses you, his razor fingers settling

Upon the lumps of your hipbones worn pale and scarred by time.

I want to swallow you

1.8 people die every second of the day and you discover

What it’s like to be that .8 of a person, somewhere

Between flying and being buried and the wolves

That are devouring your heart every minute,

Between mouthfuls of bitterness and black,

Ask you how you dare to be so soft

In the face of a boy who only falls

For the lips of Dionysus,

The eyes of Endymion.

You wake up next to him but it never happened. You shower, never able

To actually clean out the things growing inside your heart, blossoming,

But right now you’re standing behind glass like you’ve been stabbed

And the wound has just caught up, weeping and yawning.

So no-one loves you

Or no one’s loved you the way you wanted them to.

It’s just a body, you think, looking in the mirror.

Just a fucking body. You find an angle you like,

And you wish Medusa was real right now.

She’d grab your face and keep you still.

Forever inert. A statue static and cold.

It’s all gone wrong and you just want

Planes to collide in mid-air.

You just want to be still.

To be stone.

-Ian-John Coughlan

#poetry #portrait #torch song #ianjohncoughlan

Completion

I'm 22 again, I'm living at home. I'm rake-thin, and my hair is *exactly* the style you have now. I can't pass, but people have to look twice. I sleep in my old bedroom, the one that smells of books and cum. I sleep in my old four-post bed. At night, it's warm. The air is thick and red and sticky. In my bed, I'm squirming in the heat until the undersheet comes loose and peels away beneath me. Under my sheets, my bed is a portal, brimming with dark lapping liquid. I slip in. I am immersed and buoyed in a comfortable amber, an amniotic fluid, and I don't breathe. That's where I find you. You are dressed in one of my uniforms, skintight pvc trousers, a bondage tank top, the sleeves attached by straps. You float, eyes closed, rolling peacefully in the murk. I look up above us and I see an enormous female body in a Christ-pose, perfectly toned muscle, descending towards us. Her twin breasts are huge and heaving. Her face is lost in a mass of black tendrils, her hair a giant plume trailing as she falls. From her crotch sways a large thick albino cock. I move quickly. I pull you towards me, spreading your legs and hooking my fingers into your waist, yanking your pants down. I press my lips hungrily to the endearing curves of your bared ass and my tongue laps at the closed, tight bud of your hole. You sigh, and I feel your fingernails on my scalp. I push my tongue into you, opening you, and your knees tighten on my shoulders. I open my eyes and see she has almost reached us. I must be quick. I spin you easily with one hand and taking my cock in my hand I press it against your slicked asshole. You cry out as I enter you, more roughly than I would have liked, and I raise my head in time to receive her. She holds her pose above me, silent as an idol, but her cock has thickened and risen, pale and gleaming in the dim. I open my mouth to her and it slides into my mouth, cold and sweet. Gently, she fucks my throat, I grip you tight and pull myself deeper into you and it is all complete.

#ian-john coughlan #poetry #prose

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Mother, he is gentle. It's cold in the wet dark, But his laughter sounds like wedding bells. His hair smells just like char. I kiss his eyes, I kiss his hands, I kiss his dirty shoe. He whispers, Your body is my gospel. I am a book he opens with his fingers. For him, I'm paper thin. When he reads me, he moves his lips. Roses bloom in my skin When he underlines his favourite bits. And I just called to tell That I'm missing you, I piss on you, And, Mother, we are well.

#poetry #ianjohncoughlan

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The sun rose, then set.

The rose blossomed, then bled.

The lover loved, then left.

#ianjohncoughlan

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You named me in the name of God And in the name of God you died. I wore two coats, two masks, two hoods, Walked twice nude, skinless and blind. I carried your shadow some 70 years, Lost half the weight of my own. I kissed your face in every doorway, Dreamed enough for two, lived half for one.

#ianjohncoughlan

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you were driving, i was sleeping and we chased the sun at constant speed creatures in thickets watched us move as we ate music and cigarettes and candy i opened my eyes, i moved my lips you appreciated one of these gestures you spread your thighs, i took the wheel and drove us into the bushes

#ianjohncoughlan

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Your mouth

My throne

Your hands

Are my home

#ianjohncoughlan

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Always in love

With someone

Only in love

Sometimes