for j
it's not that i wouldn't want to fuck your brains out
it's just that i don't know what comes after.
i always treasure what comes after and i'd hate
to see the back of your ass after i'd just
finished savoring it
when
i saw you at the club tonight
it made my cerebellum hurt
made me wonder why we keep on bumping into
one
an-
other
wonder
why i want to christen your mouth in hot sauce
with my tongue
to make you want to hurt a little bit and feel a consequence
for your words uttered
to want you to feel your own
hotness
you're very smart
don't ever think i do not notice that
i don't care what you tell your friends
and you tell yourself
we had something once
there are small traces now
but i know i'm not a goth gamine
i never will be
and
i've overtired of lying
even as you insist
we'll have to deal with fantasy, you and i
i'll pretend you've always found me fascinating
you'll fake like i'm bjork. but cuter.
and goth. somewhat dangerous.
petite
and pale as rain.
and this way, baby we will both be satiated
satisfied
and come
and come
again
my soft and your hard
confusing and ultra clear
strawberry shortcake
huckleberry
friends
in this way we'll make the best,
yes, best
kind of bodymess
we'll make it honey sweeet
a joy to throw such pleasure back and
forth like some odd racquetballs
only baby this is sweeter.
this is our lives,
wonderbaby.
this is truly
undead.
3 29 03
ji
*