i wasn't expecting things
to be quite like this

i had my face turned away
my mouth open
as if to speak

you came upon me
again
sudden
a spurt of you-ness
that threw me off

yet somehow
i'm not surprised
you always liked bukkake
maybe just another man
who likes to leave his mark
leave me in the dark
hit and run

you seem to like it when i no longer enjoy the pain
like it when i kneel
you lick up my tears
my fears
do they make you feel bigger?
am i some kind of egotistic
statistic
another tally on the telly
a vision of soapy love lost in bubbles and fat ladies singing?

i try to intercept eros this time
break his arrows
before they burrow into my brain
perhaps you are merely
a neolater, an i, the flavor of the moment
can not go into this blind
you haven't said you loved me
haven't even, really, said you cared
only that you miss me
and we always seem to miss the things we no longer have

i will not be the fool this time
will not let
kerosine
gasoline
light the fires of my desire

can not afford
to spontaneously
combust
a little mess
of lust
and letting go of the past
just to open me up
fragile
to further failure of being what you want me to be
though i still hold it to be true
that i am more your fantasy
than you know

shake my head
rattle my thoughts
bring back the way you let me drown
i try to recall
your paralipophobia
and so, be a little less enchanted
by the way you use your words

try to remember
your kisses leave me bleeding
like scabbed knees on pavement

but still
deep down
i know i'd crawl

you're still succeeding
in playing with my mind
as if it were an action figure
you move me like checkers
jumping over my defenses
and making yourself king



i, meanwhile, play with maturity
and consequently,
my obscurity in your eyes
or is this just
malnoia left to chew on my
paranoia
vaguely i am unsettled
unsure why you have this
fixation on our rixation
when as far as i can see, we
weren't at each other's throats
enough for me to make sense of this

i am pretending again
buying into that game of make believe
am i that naive? that ready to fall?

maybe i'm drowning in hesternopothia
maybe yellowed letters mean it's time for me to let them burn
maybe i don't learn
from past mistakes
maybe you don't really want me and you're beckoning just to see
where i will go from there
won't trust again nearly as soon
i want to believe you mean it
but you could just be a rake
a snake in the grass
waiting to bite

poison

pretty eyes and pretty words
make for pretty pieces of my heart on my bedroom floor
and it's good for my poetry
but not good for me

i tell myself this
my mantra

not good for me
not good for me

but i like the way you taste
oh sweet sugar words
for all my vain attempts
to do otherwise
i'd let you rot my heart away