Saturday, August 7, 2010

in art/crafting sleep///

our fingers brace
so many minutes of the day
we've made mistaken acquaintance
of each other
black masses welt within
time draws backwards

writhing in half mooned patterns
slugs inside
exercising the stitching of flesh
internal bonding
each bit of my heart I allow yours
ashes with loathing
muscle memory in loss

closed eye is the only recluse
you becoming water
tasting of rust and chlorine
sound itches//drills down
where it used to heal
in systems
it leaves me empty

in you
eroticising male supremacy
your dick withers less appealing
in the light of dense rooms
headached pulses
and compulsion
your craft is as weak as your words