, , , , , , , ,

Look up, you purred while Joan growled, so messed up

I want you here; I looked up, a mustache


of your knurled cunt curls glued to the scallop-

scarred wreck of my lip. How’d ya get that gash?


you asked after our first kiss. To explain

that would require belief in uncanny


anatomy, infernal teeth, arcane

lips that bite back. Sex with queer and freaky


friends has its own dangers. I shrugged as I

unzipped my jeans. That’s the least of my scars.


I’ve seen worse, you said after a stiff pause.

Really? Shotgun pellets shredded my thigh.


So messed up. You came. Bass go boom. Guitar’s

howl. My mouth pressed against your toothless jaw.



The song in question is Joan Jett’s cover of The Stooge’s Wanna Be Your Dog (1969).