PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I desire nothing more than to lie here

with death on your chest.

I swooned to be seen so naked on

this aquarium glass, where my fishtail and voice come

into each other to create a perfect song of

androgeny,

while my breath slips through my gills and past your teeth

into your throat.

I'm bound to this

promise of silence and detachment,

With my heart on your tongue,

razed and revised,

the blood can rush to pool

in circular rings of

that fateful bite,

like of the gardens where the damned

raced towards

vaginal magnetism.

All this inscribed in cannibalized runes on my inner thighs,

hidden by bone and scale of hyrbidity of the

mind

of the

body

of the symbolic images

inscribed in places of another

plane.

Dismembered here, my legs lie useless

the vessels strewn outwards hint only of

offers to war.

Here the psychics chastise with expressed pollution

in exchange for their infinite wisdom of gender divisions on the crown,

bringing me back to reality with that useless old

ritual

that you place on your fighting hand

before it stifles the breathe in my throat.

Lungs of tar-black self-destruction,

are

useless to this stumbling fish girl dying of

oxygen.