Flesh only begets more flesh
And this flesh of mine
-formed in sin and shapened in iniquity-
knows only lust
and I dance between longings.
Flesh begets more flesh.
Tensions
-->
I
am beginning to name my knots.
Let
one in my neck be Wanting
from
every time I clenched my jaw after breathing in her scent.
Let
the tightness in my shoulder be Disappointment who is also called Shame
a
product of still wanting him to touch me
even
though we both know he shouldn't
and
being caught between recoiling and not.
Finally,
the chronic ache in my back will be Distance
from
consistently loving people that are too far away.
In
the same way one muscle contracts as the other relaxes
these
pains are interconnected
and
I know that all these names mean the same thing:
I
hold on for far too long and I need to learn to let go.
Requiem
I only love those
slender boys with slight frames when
they remind me of
you.
Death Throes
Morbid fascination
kills me again and again.
These are the death throes
Of our potential.
This is the not the martyrdom
I try to tell myself it is.
It is assisted suicide.
Nor is it the first time-
Reincarnation ad nauseam,
Same me, different yous-
Till nirvana:
A state I cannot reach.
It sickens me,
The way I crave
Your attentions.
Like Tantalus I thirst
And am never satisfied.
You bloom perpetual
While I fade like echoes.
Jeweled fruit that fall
From your lips
Into my ears
Sweet fruit, biting aftertaste,
Like soured wine to the dying man,
Leaves me empty and bitter.
I am killed softly
By the words you never speak.