spring’s sprung & romance makes me sneeze

today jilly‘s post about love and romance and weddings got me to reminiscing – i used to be such a romantic. i even wrote love poems and shit. one follows, i called it ‘the rantings of a fanatic’ but i no longer like the title.


i have
his nightmares
on cd;
i play them
loud they
echo in my
very center
& guide my fingers
as they endeavor
to conjure him
in my cunt

the intensity of this fantasy
is tantamount to infidelity
because even though there has
never been less than
ten feet separating us,
the sensations he sends me remain
as yet unequaled
by even the very finest
flesh frenzy that ever left me
twitching & spent

the sight of his sweat
drenches my eyes &
i am stung where his
songs rendered me raw
exposed
inflamed

fortunately for him
i am still
(relatively) sane

& even though i’ll admit i
sort of wish i knew
where he lived & could
(occasionally)
stop by

i swear
i’d hardly ever crouch
inconspicuously outside
his bedroom window
breathing
carefully
in unison
with him,
treasuring
the sharing
of air & visualizing
each molecule as it
penetrates my blood
& believing i can
sense his essence
flow through me

his words into
mine, lyric into
poem, insisting that
we were meant to blend
at some atomic level; our
essential elements combine
across dimensions,
grow gravity &
implode

& the song grows erect
& fucks me senseless…


alone in the
aftermath

& hollow &
falling

in & out of
whatever this
feeling is

i am
violated by
the ecstasy

& hope
that it ends
when i die.

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