There’s a rubbing of two metals in my stomach
Grinding dull but supple like raw chicken
Its bile and tantric, moaning in my gut
I’m starving for it; the sickness
If I tore your flesh with my molars it’d be tough I think
So I let you tear mine but you won’t break the skin,
It will stretch and spill into bitten leathers.
It’s rabid.
My gut and teeth grind into each other’s tide,
They’re rotten.
But if I sunk them into your carnal muscle I’d be cleaned with it
Rubbed smooth and baptised
With the way you’d writhe in my sweet bile
Its romantic - roses under the skin and I am the thorn
(It’ll make sense, I promise)
And the bones, teethers
How they’d gnaw my teeth right back with eager gums
I vomit and it lights my candle
Your blood is gasoline.
I gnash my clean thick teeth into your side
rip the muscle that’s braided to bones in angel-thin wisps
I eat
Dine with deep rash crossing down my neck
knife and fork jaw
my skin like a soft, clean canvas clotted with your gut
A mercury stain smothering my pores
Like ashes over grass. I crave eyes
Hands over my mouth
Holy smoke from theirs into mine
A suffocating embrace
taking pleasure from our waning breath
I soak up the heat, moan into your neck and steal you
is this romantic, please? i don’t know anymore,
but i thrive in sweat.
The grey silt that lays on the surface can be swept away by soap and bristles.
We trade our life forces back and forth like maggots fighting over a host;
cold sweat violence cuts through the rage and it tastes like passion
-two maggots tousling over a crumb
-even now as i yearn for touch
I use my words to entice, to lure a set of lungs into my eden
To drink from my waterfall tongue
Before drowning them in my guilt when I cry alone, for them and for me
and vomit their flesh into the toilet like a sack of regret