Your mouth is like a razor-lined pussy;
The JuicyFruit smell
Engorged with bruising
Around the stitches.
Let me suck out your poison
From the glistening rift between lip and lip.
Let me heal the wound beneath your
Tongue-ties
With my honeysuckle salve
And undo them with my cherry-knot tongue
Forbidden from calling
You! You! I choose you!
As you drive away-
Back to California.
I’ve been searching for a goddess ever since HIM:
My love My light My heart drunk on cologne
And rejecting every deity since THEM:
My anchor My pestle My hopeful Sisyphus.
But with you,
I became the saint
Unto whom you appeared,
Laid me on your altar,
Worshipped my body,
And cut out my heart.
It’s an honor to die- the heart offered freely,
Pulsing in his priest palms,
Holy in its partition,
Venerated by the magi,
Blessed by the shaman.
But still ripped out;
Screaming,
Tortured,
Still beating,
Still bleeding.
Then fucks my heart-hole.
His cum clots my blood;
Seals the wound shut
And now I have another mouth-
A mouth like yours-
Mauled by love-
A beautiful disaster-
A seeping, semen-filled fjord
Stitched together by distance.
The higher you get
The smaller it seems.
You don’t see the river,
Only the schism-
Crags interlocking to zip up the earth.
I am still on the altar.
I have been abandoned,
After good use,
To the vultures.
You! You! I choose you!
but you are gone.
And, like Prometheus,
I will be ever-sacrificing
Because what I have to give
Changes every day.
Practical Blasphemy: 