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Sexain for Him

shotgun apartment

stand in kitchen

watch Him across

living | work rooms

change bedsheets

our 3x sex last night

this after I made

biscuits and gravy

after previous

thursday canceled

but before our 3

month farewell

He asks if I ever

want children

explain I choose

to leave room

for those who can’t be

taken care of by family

His soft knotted ropes

were easier to answer

with my shoulder dug

into the light leather

couch in front

of pet cam and pet

the king bed is done

so His gf gets respect

He sees my domestic

side is why He asked

– you seem like you’d be good

at mothering or … maybe not 

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You add lavender to Your bedding

I lie on edge looking at You unfold

You notice My thick plastic glasses

You ask how poor is My vision – I say bad – I take off the spectacles offering them to You

You shake Your head no – You don’t want to get a headache looking through My lenses

I place the frames back on My face

I get up from Your plush mattress

I finish pulling on the fitted sheet

He states

His palm

is just the

backside

of his

knuckles

“Live” & “My Love Line”

couch conversation

finger silky folds to

establish cravings

cream fill confection

give instructions

check availability

of edible fixings

time to turn on

sense vibration

wait as evening

juices squeeze as

sound exits device

predict to take pics

what angles bring

the most mouth-

wet pleasure

Now, turn off

hand mixer

an extraordinarily intermediate trip

become bite size hazy
mist enters along bottom
soft orange pink and blue
but maybe mostly green
more mint green – not neon

sitting still then
starts to glide to
slow – quick space

lie very stationary
feel the ants rise
above the ground
and into hand next
to burned mouth
don’t worry they
won’t hurt right
away – that
takes awhile

close the sockets
that hold eyes in
feel the emotionlessness
vibrate teeth nose knuckles
ya know how pins do
or lines turned to runny –

away! that favorite place
sink below the belt of
upholstery with crispy
leftovers attached to
cotton mouth messes

people hate that
lifeless happiness
ping of codependent
debts circling
some kind of blow
jobs and carjacking

waking up is a bitch. and so is the alaskan cold.
but the money wife and responsibility is pleasant.

my grunts burst into feathers
white candy-striped midnight
gutted throat’s snot pockets
down on Franklin Ave’s stall
try three to four more pounds
of pearls collide with the face
lockjaw leopard swelling liquid
mirror glances to see rim cock
penny drop of course not bills
druggy desserts backed pain
fingerprint goodness fades like
kneecap puns or gloved meat
laced up orphans enjoy spunk
pulsing swarms enter cemetery
waving eye rolls and dark stars

my chronic caress cries barred

A sharp inhale brings in all the cold at once. My mouth welcomes the chill while my lungs protest with piercing twinges of pain. It forces me to slow down my pace, which then forces me to take in my surroundings. I must say, this is not a bad thing.

Every way I look, all I can see is bright snow through the black. At this time of night, it appears that every nearby mountain is wearing a snow coat. Every alp is draped in this untouchable white glitter that wants to say personally hi to you in the moonlight before it is gone by sunrise. I am so glad I get to witness this alone. The silence of the snowflakes falling onto these piles of earth continually tell me to keep moving. The far-off howl of an unidentified mammal reinforces this notion. With one hand on my breast, I quicken my descent on this perfection of risen earth. It’s not too far now until I get to what I consider my peace, the hot spring. MORE