misterpoop

Its been so long since Ive seen you. Now here you are, knee deep in my ransacked cafe floating down Broadway like flotsam in a river. When was the last time? Back before Christmas and here it is already February. you were pretty back then and now youre even prettier. If I were Mongolian I would build us a fire right here. What this means I havent a clue; I write to write. I type to keep my eyes off you. Otherwise I would sink. My two lungs like water logged sponges full off you. My eyes, two holes in a ship, take in your water. Bullet holes or cannon ball holes this ship is sinking with its cargo of treasure too precious for it hull, cracked by an Owl Pirate come come to open me up and lick the insides of my strawberry puff pastry. If you think Im weird, I could not blame you if you found me on the side of the road drooling. Im as lost as the next guy. Even after all these years we are strangers and yet I am still in love with you. Still lost at sea, lost by the Holly shrubs all scratched from wonder. Even the fifty year old lesbians have arrived for your cannons. The black pitch in their ribs make them look like zebras. I wonder what songs the pirates in your heart are chanting. Pirate songs for sure. I will not betray you my Owl Pirate. The Hollys have scratched your name into me. Into my thighs and I read it every night. Over and over again till sleep takes me, Black Lilly, Black Lilly, in my dreams your poisonous hand strokes my cheek at night, pulls me under cover and you pull the the breath from my lungs like a loose thread with a kiss that opens up the the ribs like a bear trap where my heart lies like a flayed rabbit steaming in the snow. I am your January, your two face God of the gates, your god of beginnings. My claws sink into you. When I fuck you, I eat your lips and ears. Your lips return like sparrows and kittens and spring, and your ears, the white petals of Orchids. We rise with the waves and pitch starboard and ready for attack. The world has arrived with its electric bills and rent and its battalions of never.
We first met in the small sea side town of marblehead though you dont remember it. You were shit faced on Grog, some Devil juice from Barbados, you called it, sliding your large, circular, coke bottle glasses back up your nose, you then planted a kiss on my lips. That was our first. I carried you home and you threatened me with your cutlass, but drunk as you were you passed out in my arms. I carried you over my shoulder down the street to the room I was renting. A second floor studio addition that was never completed. Raw space, they said. And it was. No insulation, and all the wood, wires and pipes were exposed. It was September and still warm enough. The next day it was overcast. When I woke up you again had the blade of your Cutlass against my throat and you demanded to know where ye takins were. You probably would have slit my throat but a fit of nausea took hold and you rolled over and smashed the window, stuck your head out and puked. It was good to know that even pirates had a sense of decorum. When you were done I pulled your lank sweaty body in and wiped you face and pulled your hair back. You shivered and fell back to sleep. I knew then it was love forever and wished you had finished the job you started twice so that the earth would not have to bleed for me.