Apple threaded whiskey breath blooms hot like a tulip down my gullet, and I have the nerves of a god-fearing man. God above all, church on Sundays, repent, repent, repent – that kind of meager, limp sort of a man. The kind that trembles at the lightning and pulses red-hot flesh tight against his corduroys when the priest chants the words of our lord. Worry stitches its way through my lungs, pulls and tightens my breath. You’d huff your air down my throat, inflate me back to sentience, if I so much as flickered. I’m afraid because momma never called and daddy never visited, and I’m afraid because beauty rolls through me in silky waves, and I am moved to tears like a man is moved to lie – swiftly and with ease.

I nip at your throat and know that you can foretell the longing through the rough side of my tongue. Salt lick skin meets the dunes, and we fall into the “remember?” Between your thumb and forefinger, you wiggle out my milk teeth, gently you pluck, so I may suckle at your tongue dripping nerves and calcified cocaine. I was always blue, and you were never sober, and seven years suddenly doesn’t pinch like bad luck. After all the time apart, your hands sweep my hair up with the care of a father, and when you don’t see, I shed tears with the want of a daughter. Have you ever felt need that cools like the reflection on the moon? That clots the blood and stops the heart and engulfs the space between your bones?

Burrow nose first into my lap, my honey-cocked man. Hide your fears in the way you nuzzle my thigh, teeth bared and tongue hot. Fingers to scalp, nails and all. See the density subside, fragility makes a home in our negative space. Hidden under hotel sheets, you can almost remember the way this electricity has deformed me, the way my face droops to the left, and I gained dimples that pinprick where they injected all the goodbyes like a vaccine. Like they were saving me and not putting the atrophy deep into my already collapsing muscles.

It’s possible we want as an act of transgression, that the death on your chest and the death in my dreams will be conjoined to form a two-headed beast that mimics the writhing of life. That squirms, wet-bodied, like a hydra down our throats, down my normal size and your baby-small esophagus until it vomits its warmth into our stomach. Our bellies bloat like those cherubs in those Renaissance paintings, and we push the greed to the depths, until it sits in the catacombs of our intestines and builds its home where we left the bodies.

We finally remember we are wired for vulgarity, robots with geared hands that’s only known uses are as follows: thrust, pump, rub, grope. I watch you pop the button of the shorts that belong to Bobby and not you, and therefore are three sizes too big for your waist but not your cock. And here’s the part where it starts to turn to red. Where the blood is pumping in my ears in the time of the throb in your dick. Saliva floods my mouth, and I know Pavlov would be proud of you. Imagine a cock for a bell. You could rig me up, hooks through the cheeks, and a hole in my bottom lip, and I would flood the buckets and skew the data. As I sit there, fish hooked, mouth wet and wide, I beg with my eyes for you to slide down into my throat, nine inches as measured by your head in my stomach, and show me what ownership means.

Right there, that’s the face. So happy and fucking dumb. Smiles from ear to ear from the pressure of you inside my walls. Less of a jackhammer, more of a gulp. You say my pussy is so pretty, and I laugh because you describe my face the same way. Nudging your snout down my belly, you whimper like a beast to be freed and to taste the sweat that pools between my panties and my flesh. And I didn’t shower today, so I’m pushing you away and I’m giggling in that stupid baby doll voice and I know you’ll know me too well. If you can taste me so violently, you will know me to the same extent, and I fear being seen. I let you do it because I can do it scared, and I want to ride your mouth in a way that shames the daylight.

buy me a cig or a coffee or some dignity