Apr 28, 2018
awry
Would we conjoin? The well-cut and wicked know how to fuck. But you and I? We're crass
and ill-shaped --- Flesh not meant to run naked under plump green vines, wind’s wild pampas-grass;
asses not meant to be tapped. We were born under the signs of phlegm and oddities;
less chic and more shriek. In all of their porn nothing looks like us. That's good. Others please,
we tire, swamp-corpse and bloat. Our carnal sin: sloth. Our lewd god: nuzzling gone awry.
When you tell me, “your body will haunt mine,” that’s a threat. We’re not grape’s whine: its juice, skin,
madness. We’re what’s left: hot dust, empty sky twitchy things, the grotesque in the grapevine.