Tag: #fake
Thin girl
The afternoon
like used rubber
lost in roll
one in pleasure
the other cold and full
beneath their day clothes
thrown off like wings
she looked nude like a thinner version of herself
lost in angles and jutting hip bones
a little skinnier than his wont
but you know what they say about skinny women?
you can put them on top of your pencil and rotate
sharpening to a point and using until blunt
her smell is on his fingers and in his hair
his mouth aches from kissing her between her legs
she’s showering with the door open
the tiny bones in her spine popping
as she leans into the heat
the steam fogging up frosted windows
he inhales her and his fifth cigarette
simultaneously
it is this
the indistinct
stillness of afterward
sought most of all
when his body is sate and slick with her dew
nothing, not anything, matters
she
will ask for him again with her eyes even after
she has washed him off
it’s the contradiction of
passion
to re-dress only to have them torn off
he traces with his little finger
a selfishness that tells the rest of the world
to go to hell
languidly replaying how
her thin body rose and fell above him
weightless
the sound of her pleasure
pressed against his neck
like vibrations from a train
speeding into station with
oiled momentum
The surface
Play the chord
fingers synchronized with musical word
if it could music would
speak her ache and exchange seats
pass the parcel
good children canceling upbringing
she was told early in life
click your heals, come what may
stomach flu for those who try
cucumber eaters reward the beguiled
not everything hot seeks to be mild
she has shorn her hair
she had snipped her tinny heart
a changing in need of firm foothold
women flock together
temptation to condemn grows bold
she wants to say
do not condemn her
because she reminds you of a hated sister
or provoked in her fist toward the sky
some outcry
the cantor of what ifs
rich healed but poor in charity
make do with petitions nobody reads
can you eat paper?
served empty stomachs before bed
you liked her for the very things that tried to kill
a blue jay lands in her hair
she is beholden of magic in mosaic hour
nobody talks to the lax or those who having lived say
i am tired do not stone me for my wish to sleep
they tell us to wake refreshed and give thanks for every day
as the woman with tumors can attest
we never know our last act
but she is unappreciative according to modern science
she has only felt horror in the divulge
show me purpose in this false world she cries
show me meaning on the flat tyres of transport
choking concrete eyelids
she never spoke her own language
she spoke through bandages
swaddling true message
could it be for some this world is too much?
the refuge of the underneath bewitching
thronging temptation far across water
she smells just like your childhood girlfriend
capturing applies in her cotton frock
go back through time
give your place to another
let them pluck the skinned chord
tune the piano with violent glove
close audience’s raptor with honest stare
beyond them and the sweating lights
disrobing in darkness
stirs
a familiar urging retreat
come
bow your striped head
step away in foil
take your now
it is all right
to seek to let go
and skip
senseless below
the surface