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bruised, bloodied and mad
the butterfly — so tattered
sister, I love you

………………………………………………………………..

                                 ][
Mottled tattoo——a taboo——beckoning
her to return to——sip the fine vintage
of his fourteen-year odd——essence needing
                                 ][
but a single nip from her——teeth carnage
blood-blood reopened——her tongue bathing in
his dusk boy——blood that sticky grin. The curve
                                 ][
of his cock above the sheet’s skin, boy sin
calling to her fingers. Who has the nerve
to go there when lust is neither legal
                                 ][
nor pure? Caught in——that dim shadow she did
nothing but obey as her cooled flesh warmed
and she called him her——cute anal angel
                                 ][
he was all——that’s taboo——what we forbid.
All that will leave us a monster transformed.
                                 ][

………………………………………………………………..

                                 ][
Soon when you’re good I’ll show you my Y, gray
shaped scar that cut my chest and clavicles,
sternum and heart, all in half. That which lay
                                 ][
in me was once on display. My devils
made no attempt to be subtle. The art
of the cross-stitch hurt but kept my ugly
                                 ][
bosom together. My guts, pulled apart,
slept on the dissection table. To be
as anatomically correct as this
                                 ][
was a horror-show. Man’s ideal monster
can’t be built, but we try. My Pygmalion
lover saw to that. Listen to the hiss-
                                 ][
whir of dark science that made me neither
god nor demon. I’m not even human.
                                 ][
………………………………………………………………..

spring delirium
suddenly the world and I
are one, drunk as fuck

………………………………………………………………..
                                 ][
If you were to rebuild me, fashion me
in your likeness, your image, spread me out
on the dissection table. With hasty
                                 ][
stitches suture in zippers, so without
pain you can have quick access to my heart.
I am a gray blossom, passion denied,
                                 ][
wearing other people’s pieces. Apart
from the shredded feral divine, I pride
myself that I have survived you. Perhaps
                                 ][
you’ll never feel guilt, just white static noise.
I might be a monstrosity, but you,
little god, you’re what happens when love snaps
                                 ][
and you get bored with me. You break your toys
so that you can fix them with nails and glue.
                                 ][
………………………………………………………………..

dreaming
in saline
solution
embal
ming
fluid,
paste,
stitches …

sewing butterfly
wings back on, monster, love,
kiss your bit of fist