This is our journey. And our love, will sail us through.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Blood gets a mouth

Curl. Curl. Sniff and turn around. Leak.
My blood smells of an intense desperation and that’s what it sounds like.
It laps up against the breasts and leaks out in dollops of a torn nipple and cream.
Because it’s a delirious nymphomaniac’s blood, so that is the place it will choose to explode. It would jut out with countless other dreams. Diseases of touch. Alcohol rimmed inside eyes, liver and groin. And years of impatience to reach him. But I never did? Might be you will. Might be you will be all the things I am not.
Are you a born woman?
Is your certificate of a double XX chromosome somewhere? Is your vagina wet? Do your lips speak like mine? Do they write cursive anger? Practice midnight howls and slip on love’s dearth?
Or might be you will go out with someone else and wait in some decorated room for more love. A hand to cup your firm breasts and suckle it like a child. And also remind you, how empty he is without you. How he is has a house of mirage. A house of your and his children and your pregnant belly. A salivating tongue will plunge straight on to your cunt.
My blood leaks right from here. Might be you will lactate from there one day.
I will not.
My blood will roam everywhere and that is all I have to lure you.
Curl. Curl. Sniff and turn around. Leak.

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