ragged and raging
in darkness pressed against her skin
a saint to your elders
an elder to your saints
behind the pink door
aging well
still able to sing my heart
kill it she said
this won’t last but i will love you through
- life is not waiting -
she stained him a purple mess
never the same note
a music of scents
the taste of iron in my mouth
spit
cum everywhere
and a wetness coating the walls
we are inside her
ripping the fabric we are covered in
tearing it down to be lost and won
some sick sense of dread and awful seeping in
never can you be this way again child
unsafe in the world of men
shamed and threatening with a hovering violence
a thick black mass of mucus
and a throat full of love
give it up
this well is being plumbed for all its worth
and you sit at the bottom of it expecting to be touched
when the last inch of these tendrils is gone
and the rushing and wailing has ceased
safe in quiet
killed like that
a mistress for your mouth to mulch
go down
this is the bed on which we feast
this is the breathing that will one day cease
don’t act like this isn’t happening
don’t try to act like this isn’t happening
