(no subject)
Apr. 28th, 2004 10:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
burnunitcome and do not make a ghost of me for your purpose, your divinity of sweet sex. Hold onto the sharp chrome angles of my hips, the unbloodied lips I take between my teeth just so. O climb with me into the giant green of our river bed, our sweaty shoreline of memories and guttering candle flames. I imagine me seen in a mirror, thinned by optics into a giant man, all leers and towering forehead.
Now as I reach for the thick roll of payment I imagine my ear pressed to your chest, my heart risen to the speed of yours, the acceleration of our lust in the brazen midmorning sun. Take us down the river with you, I want to beg him.
One day I'll reflect nothing in that mirror, distorted as I'll be into slender finitude.
But we were talking about money. And I assented to this exchange, this quest to leave our beloved borderlands behind, cross those forgotten bridges and unravel the City of the Markets of the Dead. We were pointed arrows now, gimlet tips at the heart of the Market.
No. Food for a tapeworm, I realized: a lithe step into the bowels of the City to push it from within and let it devour itself.
O my beloved, I thought in a moment—
—craven tongue, curled to sup the light right off the survace of the world. O did you then consume me? devour my skin the liquor of my warm neck —
—until my interruptions pulsed again and sleep rode down on me.
Now as I reach for the thick roll of payment I imagine my ear pressed to your chest, my heart risen to the speed of yours, the acceleration of our lust in the brazen midmorning sun. Take us down the river with you, I want to beg him.
One day I'll reflect nothing in that mirror, distorted as I'll be into slender finitude.
But we were talking about money. And I assented to this exchange, this quest to leave our beloved borderlands behind, cross those forgotten bridges and unravel the City of the Markets of the Dead. We were pointed arrows now, gimlet tips at the heart of the Market.
No. Food for a tapeworm, I realized: a lithe step into the bowels of the City to push it from within and let it devour itself.
O my beloved, I thought in a moment—
—craven tongue, curled to sup the light right off the survace of the world. O did you then consume me? devour my skin the liquor of my warm neck —
—until my interruptions pulsed again and sleep rode down on me.