03-21-2011, 07:43 AM
The electric fan whitens my bones.
An excuse to hold you.
We embrace like stranded mountaineers.
Like a rose opening, a fire blooming
until it grips the whole street,
my lust has taken shape, formed words.
The infant of my gross hunger
bawls for sustenance.
I suckle on your lips, your chest.
How does a teenager express
what still controls much older men?
I fuck your ass. This is not beautiful.
An excuse to hold you.
We embrace like stranded mountaineers.
Like a rose opening, a fire blooming
until it grips the whole street,
my lust has taken shape, formed words.
The infant of my gross hunger
bawls for sustenance.
I suckle on your lips, your chest.
How does a teenager express
what still controls much older men?
I fuck your ass. This is not beautiful.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe