You only come when the little death does.
My friend, you do not know what begrudges you.
Not them, but me foremost,
Like king's wool and copper coins
Rolling lies as big as you.
On a bed of flowers and voile
You lay with me, and I see you,
A tool to consume.
Did you know it's a lot to consume?
Love. I'm Chloe in the afternoon.
Your veins worm like thunderbolts on yellow skin.
It's not easy to not want it,
Everyone loves the ideal.
Every woman, every man, every me,
O how ironically surreal,
To be beside the centerpiece of a propaganda poster
That only seems to hate.
And you've done it all,
Every woman, every man, every me.
You tell me I am awful at what I do-
My riding, sucking, my swallowing.
No, gigolo, I am good, good, good.
Continue! Hate, hate, hate.
Lightning only lasts meager seconds,
Until the charge is dissipated.
Meager seconds-
And I hope to not longer want
To be waiting for you to open me up,
Like tulip bulbs of tepid mania
I want to profit on
In a red-light district of your Anglo-American town.
They are so little there.
Yet so am I. But you are a flyspeck.
A lump of disinterested flesh,
A parcel of straw hair.
And me, a pretending god
In our floral bed of Venetian fabrics.
This is your world, I know,
Wherein you hanker down in it,
With your short-sleeve, olive brown,
And your cowlick slicked and sticking up.
I'd never seen you look more boyish.
It's not easy to not want it, and soon after
I'd see the little death
And your arms,
All their scars and peach fuzz.
They rise like a million hydras,
Small and soft.
As if I can kill them-
Can I?
No, no. I'm no merry Hercules,
No suffocating sky.
Henry, I was your window prostitute,
Your ugly white edelweiss
Behind the purple glass of your Colonial.
I saw you like a pillar of God.
Shining, graven image. Lumen!
Your golden calves, your lightning worms.
I wanted you to be one, a deity to look up from on my knees to your inner thighs.
O how warlike, how glorious,
I could not excuse it.
Your hooded blues, so Teutonic!
But no more do I want your experiences!
They're barbaric, a barbarian
From a Barbary state
I want to be from and love to hate.
But I knew I could never be happy.
Not with you, and not where you'd bring me.
On occasion it felt like we didn't live
With one another at all,
And you were silent marble, neither there nor here.
