chromatographics

gay poems by mb bischoff

#red

7 poems

poison

the black bottle kept just out of reach of those who fear my obsidian liquid

a toxicology report: deadly in large doses but taken with care the hurting heals us

sure, share a nightcap wince with me in pain we need this to sting no easier, knowing it

small sips are sweet deeper drinks, bitter stone fruit can’t mask a burning this intense

scared to let you see me like this — red eyes pierce pewter framing you want, no, need to

as the spirit fully hits there’s no stopping this             drink. the cork is broken now

steps

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

camcorder

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.

gender.app

pull out my phone tap on the app needs to update… they always do

new gradient same icon shape wide colorspace hard to adjust

why do we all want to shapeshift? to be seen through filters we make

on the G train dark grey sweatshirt black leather boots riding crosstown

slider tempts me— drag it slowly no one else stares they just don’t care

this is my stop: girl in red dress heels to match her lipstick and tits

costume changes inside closets infinite fits incoherence

it’s not just me, everyone plays gender’s this game’s in-app purchase

micro actions & transactions never enough to fill the space

if i’m always searching for it, the right setting, flipping through them

will i know when i have nailed it? new release notes: patches the bugs

what if i’m stuck inside a loop? keep it running there’s no kill switch

nude

back then, i saw your body just on screens — pinpricks of light transferred across the line. soft curves and folds, i felt you in my dreams; those pictures, now, are burned into my mind.

and then i touched your silken skin at last, traced these lines with red ink until they dripped, gripped thighs while kissing slow, then hard & fast, embraced to warm the places we had stripped.

but now i’m separated from your touch, yearning for the ways we fit, like jigsaw pieces you never need to force too much. despite it all : i’m here. i won’t withdraw.

you’re nude before my eyes, no matter where. i’ll drink you up and leave them none to spare.

ftl

random chance meeting sweater that shimmers parties are fleeting your glances glimmer

post selfies in slack our dms vanish a coffee date ask making a plan-ish?

calls about lost work texts about gender watching your lil’ smirk my heart grows tender

shopping for red skirts sharing a small lunch enjoying my quirks i’m having a hunch…

flirting a little to see if it sticks too noncommittal? or does it just click

late night at a show we let our legs brush at the bar i chose you admit your crush

a ride to your place the tension growing sharing a small space finally knowing

nervously waiting for you to arrive fuck, now we’re dating. we instantly vibe

stick

winter cherry, lush pressed to the pane : clear swirling glass, vessels for grapes

red print attracts gazes from gays strange artifacts mouths go astray

first contact lasts longer than stains washed away fast — much like our brains

they always say lips that disguise can’t be the way, but never the why

shouldn’t we just paint what we feel even if lips must become the meal