Tracers
Ribbons of light
Again and again
Alone in this incredible fight
Against the Black Motherfucking Dog
Tense then up then down then up
Then the growling bastard comes
Drives daggers through the heart
And never before did my tongue crave
The sweet juice of alcoholic oblivion
As it does on these icy anniversary days
You used the word “Love”
The first time in two years
Two years of disgusting
Snot and drool puddles
Containing the sorrow of my soul
My own foreign crying
A sombre and slow moan
Guttural
It washes up on shore
Dripping wet
Somewhere in Boston Harbour
Or Venice? One of those hotels
The way you used to take me so hard up the ass
That you covered my mouth to stop my cries
A domination you could only show me in bed
But a beautiful one
Oh sweet hard, swollen cock
Your face in the sunlight
Every curve, every crevice I can trace with my empty hand
On black bed sheets with books as my lovers now
The real ones fleeting, four or was it five?
Nevermind, they didn’t give a damn
Youthful ignorance to be someday filled with sorrow like mine
Then they’d know
They they’d know that you shouldn’t bother
Tearing more holes in such a battered heart
Fuck them for what they don’t know
Oh and fuck them I do
Sweet, shy yet strong women, slipping a hand between moist thighs
Dripping tongue in anticipation of yet one more juicy cunt
And gorgeous bodies, smooth, smelling of pussy and perfume
Yes you do like being fucked hard don’t you?
What power
What pleasure
Yet perhaps a charade after all
I am masculinity seeking the warm embrace of a mother
I am femininity wanting the be adored by a father
And everything in between
And nothing at all
And
Nothing
At
All
