She began with my legs. Nibbling at my toes seemed innocuous enough that neither of us had to acknowledge what she was doing, but playful enough that it would be clear that we were on the same page, so I was surprised that she seemed to feel legitimately caught when I told her that I understood, and that it was (more than) ok. Maybe she was just putting on an act to be flirtatious.
clouds up on graveyard shift and the implacable moon is a welcome comma between the foreign inflection of vapor clauses. i’m a fallen star that burns outside-in because i only exist insofar as i’m reflected in you. listening with reverence to the imitative gleams in your cracked skull… mutant germs of ancient sense blazing still.
(invalid homage to the nebula diaspora… inconsolable, dire people, dead to their own womb;
death drug poets de Quincey into eternity smoke mirrors and the sun
for beauty
wild bright lonely dream
in the land of the poets sensualists
nepenthe their ordinary existences
for doomed extasy
on heapd’ wings of fire delight
sovran melancholy the barterd’ muse
awaits in half death dark rooms of
nothingd’ pleasure fadeing drug
comedown disintegration
all poets get old everyday
the death of young beauty