Of all the kinds of hells, I am the Hell
of Ache and Thrill. The raw material
Eros heaps on the bed. Watch the moon swell,
the tides slap up against you. The cruel
way the Earth does not like you. She sent me
to you. The curse at the end of the prayer.
Only if it’s rough. I am all fury.
There is torture and then there is torture.
The moon knows, the tides know, the Earth knows. You,
it seems, do not. Because you always need
more and I am the pain that you welcome.
I have never understood the taboo
of hurt or why it turns you on. But bleed
you I will, down to your last orgasm.
memories of my ghost sista 