bent on ruin
Smells hung in the air, the result of those
Consequential peons.
Not a burning, fire smell. More like a thick
Yet concise spiciness, which tickled the nostrils
Rather than setting them aflame.
There is nothing shattered, and yet I hear a breaking.
A smoky haze traveled your body in my dream.
Fluttered over your cheeks, seemed to pause at your
Lips, which parted to allow your tongue to wet them.
Flowed past the curve of your neck, passing over wonderful
Shoulders, wisping
About to your hands, your knuckles, your fingertips.
Where I get stuck, after a pit stop at your navel,
Is the cool form of your legs, the way your calves fit into
My hands, the tremendousness of your thighs.
If a love is what you want,
Then here is hate and lies and deceit.
Here is the inspiration for your desire
The dam’s opened valves, the flooded
Thought makes at the doors of your soul.
Here is the aching crush you crave,
That inefficient fancy, that overwhelming self-sacrifice
Into sunlight and darkness. And I dare you to finish
What you’ve started. Because here, Friction,
Here is where I rise above the honesty you bring
Daring through the reality, here is where I triumph
The blood’s warm life, triggering
My brain’s understanding of the rifling I have
Inside of me, each dance of the joy
Wrung deeper, because here, Friction,
Here is where the world ends, every time.