this is not necessarily about sex...
but it may come out naked as that angel hovering above me
or a baby born into an irreversible war zone
naked. naked and devestated
hands clasped and begging
for stillness under the bigger
hand of tyrranical
and when you were
naked. naked and still in the hold
between my elbows
i imagined such calmness
could transform the passage to
but our position was one of minute consequence
people have been touching
since hands were created, and before that, microorganisms
were just floating oh, oh so close
in the purest delusion of
time and space
oh, but how we evolve in spite of
time and space.
when did metal become sexy?
if guns were living flesh
i may be more inclined to gather, huddle
and shoot and shoot and sh sh sh shooot
bullets made of more living
digging deep into yr brain
flower pot cranium, come
and cover me with those
i will spit back on yr belly
the words you rooted in the roof
of my mouth
they will wrap around you like twine
and leaves of glass
cutting you with an image
when you were seeing me
i was seeing myself as well
but it was not that pretty thing
you drew me as
i was just dirty. and cold. and floating
in mid air
searching for a target
i SWEAT. i GASP. can't RELAX.
for i am at war
i will land on myself thrashing
and kill every last one of those
sappy flowers you gave me.
oh the beauty of ruins. oh the wonder of remnants.
how will we grow in this garden of futility?
the only way to know
is to try
let's do that again.