Don’t come to moan by my sick bed, lover.
I don’t want rust’s slow kiss of corrosion.
I want catastrophic systems failure. —
if you must bawl and groan let your tears run
into my pubes as you splutter my cock
urgently down your throat, like it’s the last
time we’ll get to do this, this beastly shock
of bliss, touch of nirvana spread out vast
in us. Cum quick or slow we know all this
must end. Take me now before my flesh cracks;
before I lose all my lustful intent —
no more melting as one from a rude kiss —
no more lull before hip-pounding climax—
no more glow of surrender once we’re spent.
