“There is no greater sorrow than to recall in misery the time when we were happy.”
Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy
i sing him a song about usi step on her handsi splay her fingershe hunts me with his mouth
she has three colours in her eyesi swim in her as she quietshe bites me closed againi will not predict how you want to use mehe tells me to soap myselfshe tightens and i hit hermy swallow reflex is goneher head explodes in the firei hold my breath as long as i canyou lick me stupidlyi broke my nose in the grassshe imagines i can help heri try to excite myself so i stay crazyshe has no taste left to heri hook my chin over her shoulderi want to f*** her where she has too much hairwith you inside comes the knowledge of my deathshe is narrow in the blue bag as they lift heri am awake in the place where women diewhat is left on the blanket is the colour of hell
The New Poetics 