Deleterious Desires

I want to be the summation of your abstractions and admirations,
the epitome of your apparitions and aggressions.

I want to embody two bodies with one subconsciousness–
a logical implosion necessitates desire in motion–
succumbing to synchronous heartbeats and mutual orgasms
in two-hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets.

I want to wrap my legs around your waist,
wasting no time immersing in you.

I want to relive old fantasies together on a NES emulator,
while mocking my miscalculations
and the malleable mortality

of poorly portrayed contextual charlatans.

I want you to pick apart my pretentious poetry
in affably affected accents with four part harmony
forgivable footnotes, derailing deflections, and arbitrary asides.

I want to stare into those unflinching eyes
and read your secrets
and fuck your mind.

I want to celebrate our shared insomnia while wrestling
with the potent and puissant questions
of our converging communal culture.

I want to commingle in crepuscular light
with subpar cinema
and inventive savory snacks
while repeating to myself
“It’s just a show,
I should really just relax.”

I want to passively aggressively point out your flaws
through apocryphal apophthegm
which leave cohorts and kindreds
guessing and grasping at straws.

I want to concede to you brushing,
and washing, and pulling my hair–
albeit deleterious desires–
but this devotee has dutifully acquired
and cultivated quite a kink.

I want your flocculent phalanges to slowly trace
the discordant and delicate lines
of my carefully selected ink.

I want you to be the lover
who lies with me, lies to me
like Steve Martin lies to Goldie Hawn,
“but the night is long,
and I am full of tossing ’til the dawn.”

4 thoughts on “Deleterious Desires

  1. this is really hot and steamy and so full of passion even better than the first one of yours I read. It sucked me right into it.

  2. Oh, daughter of the earth itself, you’ve long since spread your wings and sailed aloft, your gathering flock following in your wispy wake.
    The migration begun, where shall it end? When will the flock rest upon the warm summer sand?

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