deepundergroundpoetry.com
rotgut
I want to slide past your lips
like silk,
like kerosene,
like madness,
and bloom in your stomach like a
drop of food coloring in a glass of water
taint that shit irrevocably.
I want you to fuck you up
so damn badly tonight
that you swear off me
tomorrow morning,
unwilling to put your body
through this again.
and when you mean to reach for a
glass of water and an asprin,
I want you to instead
reach for me
with shaking hands
for just one more taste
just enough to take the edge off
Days later,
I want you
to lick your lips
and shudder at the thought
of the way I taste,
palms sweating as you
dream of more.
When you come for more
I want us to
get shit-faced fast,
ride out the rage,
the loneliness,
fear
lust,
sickness and shame
so that we can finally let go
and each stop battling ourselves in silence
and force it all past another set of lips
I want you to fuck it out of me,
fuck it into me,
my moans as you do like
the best damn scotch
that you poured down the drain
so that you could drink bathtub gin
from an old
Diet Coke bottle,
while you
twist me, take me, make me
recreate me in an image so sick
that security knocks on the door
to make sure nobody’s dying.
We lie, and
say nobody’s dying.
when really
my eyes are rolled back
in my head
as you succumb in my arms
from ethanol fumes
and
black
label
me
like silk,
like kerosene,
like madness,
and bloom in your stomach like a
drop of food coloring in a glass of water
taint that shit irrevocably.
I want you to fuck you up
so damn badly tonight
that you swear off me
tomorrow morning,
unwilling to put your body
through this again.
and when you mean to reach for a
glass of water and an asprin,
I want you to instead
reach for me
with shaking hands
for just one more taste
just enough to take the edge off
Days later,
I want you
to lick your lips
and shudder at the thought
of the way I taste,
palms sweating as you
dream of more.
When you come for more
I want us to
get shit-faced fast,
ride out the rage,
the loneliness,
fear
lust,
sickness and shame
so that we can finally let go
and each stop battling ourselves in silence
and force it all past another set of lips
I want you to fuck it out of me,
fuck it into me,
my moans as you do like
the best damn scotch
that you poured down the drain
so that you could drink bathtub gin
from an old
Diet Coke bottle,
while you
twist me, take me, make me
recreate me in an image so sick
that security knocks on the door
to make sure nobody’s dying.
We lie, and
say nobody’s dying.
when really
my eyes are rolled back
in my head
as you succumb in my arms
from ethanol fumes
and
black
label
me
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