words don't come that easy.

x

25.11.21
10:10

and now I must tell you how the skin on the pig
is more human than my own,
with rutted pockmarks, and rigid scars
fixed like a crude half smile,
and she asks me to hold it still with heavy hands
as she knots twine over until the tips of my fingers,
and toes stretch beyond tissue;
until she redirects the radio waves in my brain,
and I am humming the song trumpeted
into my mouth when we flopped like
sun baked seals on sandy shores hung out
to dry like like soaked almonds being
pushed through a sieve, like a garlic press
pulverizing the meatiest of cloves,
like pulp from the orange flapping
between the gaps of his teeth,
like the shred skin from a hang nail
ripping piece by piece
the laundry folded over taut lines;
how we moved through the sheets
to move through each other,
as if we were hand-me-down ghosts
chasing each other through leaf burdened streets,
crying this is how I desire
and rough hemp fibers
splitting like the frazzled tips of her curls.

/// sorry this is shitty. i will try to write better tomorrow.