, , , , , , ,

How do the sober mate? The ones not drunk

on quick kisses. Who don’t drop to their knees


on the first date. Who tuck their luscious junk

away and never learn how to say, “please,


cum-plum, I need more.” More libertine sex

magic and all the proteins found in cum.


More rough gods and nipple clamps. More objects

designed for pleasure. Imagine Sodom


as a lazy date night. The world is ours.

Imagine a kiss that leaves you stoned, sloshed,


flushed. Imagine me knocking on your door.

Debauched acts: what soils the soul in others


is our prayer. Pray savage, come drunk, unwashed.

Tell me that you want this … that you need more.