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"But I need a place where I can shout and weep. I have to be a Spanish savage at some time of the day. I record here the hysteria life causes in me. The overflow of an undisciplined extravagance. To hell with taste and art, with all contractions and polishings. Here I shout, I dance, I weep, I gnash my teeth, I go mad -- all by myself, in bad English, in chaos. It will keep me sane for the world and for art."
-Anais Nin
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Porn On My Bathroom Floor
I fall the same way balloons float on the string;
empty and self-loathing.
I held onto my knees as you fluff me up like a pillow,
wondering if elegantly dressed women ever get on their knees in their ball gowns,
and suck like this.
We thread through the fabric I dragged onto the floor.
The dropping of hints as we move closer.
Breaths.
Gazes.
Heartbeats.
You sink like a butterknife into my skin
and there,
there's the sound of your muffled footsteps as you sneak in outside my window again.
I become two,
one below you
and one flying above the frame of us.
Can't you feel me watching?
The rocking of your body becomes all too familiar
and I wonder if I'll be able to stop this time.
(Or maybe I just won't.)
It's the porn on my bathroom floor,
the plunge of a hand through windowpane and cheek,
a slippery wrist with ginger fingers,
and the memory of our lustful distanglings only eases the pace at which I can write out our liasons. |
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