Text

forgive me for not leading you
into temptation, i don't have the
halo of your duty about my head.
your erotic garbage
lies in your skull
and it has the stench
of milk teeth about
to pry loose from gums.

i know, i knew,
i'm a nude posing for
a pornographer but she's
the one standing in for
the photographer, unforgiving
camera focusing on
my breasts and thighs
with marble cracks.
if i were the photographer
i'd turn the camera on her
and expose the broken in
track of her long lost music.

her husband who has still
not yet had his first wet dream
would not appreciate you.
goodness knows that men want
to walk the unbroken field.
they want to sow their seeds,
whether it be in the folds of
her dress or my mouth.

i don't have the appreciation for
the clean scent of undressed hair
or the line of a young one's jaw.
my own jaw is too heavy with
words that lie in my mouth like
unshed tears that taste of
charcoal.

she's related to you.

i dress for mourning and
you dress for easy access.
the abortion of my words
leads you to take her hand
in yours. i, a grown woman
seeking childhood from
your wet penis. it smells of
flavoured lipstick and talcum
powder.

you're waiting for her

but you will leave her when
the roses fly from her cheeks,
startled birds, and her
breasts are teacups in your
hands.

you always did love youth,
brother of mine. finding love
in the ribcage of her.