I have no words for you.
You expect me to lie
To fly
To fall
To flee
To fear.

I have nothing left but wings to waste
"This is heartache baby,
Deal."
I have nothing left but contempt to taste.
"I'm surprised you can still feel, baby,
Breathe."

Am I fucking nuts like seizures?
Convulsing twisting
Spinning Spitting
Unlike you "baby",
I do it with my legs closed.

The pleasure/pain fuck-
You and I are so alike
You and I are so apart.

You are naked
Convulsing twisting
Spinning Spitting
Clutching backs
Wrenched fingertips.

I am naked
in minds corridor
Twisting, Convulsing
Spitting, Spinning
Clutching air
Searching to find warm hands
Wrenched fingertips.

You scream lust
the pleasure/pain fuck
I scream at walls
I will not fly or flee.

We are both pushing
To feel life
You smash against thighs
I smash my face to the ground
To cause pain or
To feel pain,
Whatever.

So intense and real
Sex
Insanity
We both just want-
Want
Want
To Get off.

So
Much
Friction

So
Much
Emotion

You bust
I just snap
And we are both left
All alone
To our devices.

We can both smoke a cigarrette to this one baby-
I shall smoke mine
Still on the grounds
Of a tear soaken blanket
You shall smoke yours
Sweat soaked and held.

Either way,
We both got fucked tonight-
Baby-
Cunt-
We'll both just wake up and do it all again.
I'll be surprised if I can still feel
Don't ever tell me to breathe.

These words were not for you, baby...
But for him.
------------------------------------------------
Most poetry is written in the wake and in the shadow, of the girl or guy who always comes in first, while you're in second. This is just another one of these poems.

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