#pain

half decade wishes: a leveling out. forbidden kisses the right choice, no doubt

central park consult king cole martini review old results discard bikinis

photograph the curves archives in high gloss the things i preserve, they’ll surely just toss

day before phone calls rage at the system its stops, starts, & stalls need to assist him

sleep, holding a heart cleanse every surface wrong name on the chart of course you deserve this

wave as the doors close don’t use the “b” word eat eggs as you doze the artwork looks blurred

a husband’s phone rings let me inside there treat you like a king hold cups as your care

bumpy ride that night late rooftop phone call two beams of bright light never forget fall

a week goes by fast managing your pain see yourself at last straight scars and no drain

i cry more than you do it hits me deeply this thing that you choose didn’t come cheaply

a body transformed like overnight oats years since your plans formed i’ll keep taking notes

now please, sit back stretch out your legs relax awhile — furniture begs

pull off your boots i’ll kneel below slip off your socks and take it slow

bare both your soles flex all ten toes your footstool’s goal: to be repose

our arches meet — my back, your curve almost so much i don’t deserve

a faint perfume teases my nose the smoothest skin so rarely shows

i’ll work them deep with oiled hands their perfect forms each digit fanned

red lacquered nails command my eyes and higher heels you’ve made me buy

bare, they stay — no decoration focus trained on adoration

pressed on my face i’ll kiss you there and lick the base become ensnared

kick or trample i’ll take the pain with shoes sampled my body strains

pleads for pressure that space between — the greatest pleasure: touch from the queen

release the jewels that flood within wetness pools on shining skin

twentysomething object built to take a beating— recording blurry scenes to wound cassette tapes.

humming with precision opening up when pressed her red button worndown by many careless owners.

secondhand machine with new ways of seeing inside freezing a frame when it can’t take this much in…

an observation device for triangular dynamics that separate signal and static projecting what is actual.

a new lease on life from repairs to its internals, charging, maintenance, & importantly: regular use.

door opens— am i the fool? gloves snap, now i’m playing my role unstained steel tray cradles your tools you wash me clean, i cede control

you sketch small leaves in purple ink i play with you, this is our game when it’s all done, what will they think? art, artist, work— all share a name

calmly you ask “ready for stabs?” there’s not a way for me to know is this your temple or your lab? we share one breath, it’s time to go

your sword and your eyes penetrate music and pain blanket my brain sometimes we should disregulate questions pour out, blood from a vein

hours pass as you make passes pricks turn into private pleasure when we are through, our flesh collapses every mark is made forever