Thoughts on pain, sex, and lust without love. |
His tobasco tongue has licked me swollen Pinned me against mottled iron Calves against hips Hands against wrists Crying against his shoulders in ecstasy As he sucks the hot meat from my bones He makes demands of my elastic skin Scalded nipples kissing his thumbs like molten glass He is a demi-god of liquid lead His body the tempest at the heart of an inferno Terrible to see My flesh like ancient paper Smolders at the fringes Ready to ignite The worst part of him Bruises its way up my inner thigh Inconsiderate and blind All veins and convulsions and slick pressure Trailing beads of fiery fluid Its questing habanero tip Commands me to burn for him But I am no witch I will not be his kindling I want to tell him “no” That I am but a word, fluttering An inconsequential word in a library of books A breath, a syllable Hidden in musty racks I want him to come find me I want him to spend eternity flipping through pages Until he can finally speak my name He laughs a dragon's laugh With glowing eyes of ripening red And spins me a new tale Where a library is consumed by purging flame And anguished stories cry out as they feed his lust Nobody to open their pages Still kissing his way down my breastbone He leaves a necklace of painful cankers And stops just above my heart Lowering his mouth, I tense with feverish bliss He bites down with a “pop” Juices drizzling from his chin as if from a succulent plum Mingling with 100 proof saliva He rolls my heart between his teeth Then spits the gory mass into his palm His imperious instruction: “Burn” We both watch and feel the sting of the anti-climatic A weak thump is his only reply As I knew it would be I take my heart from him Wipe off the spittle and put it back between my ribs With fathomless disdain My hands encircle his hips as I mount him My lips smothering his Tasting my own blood And ride the incubus down into the dust The world spins around us And the flames rise up Until both sky and air are a conflagration He roars in pleasure Snarls and arches and tries to tear through my thin paper arms Which pin him to the ground His mindless carnality Begging me to be his fuel But I remain like paper Smooth, cool Unmalleable The incandescence inside him begins to gutter Oily blood growing stagnant Heat fading Cannibalized by my white-hot disregard His own folly turned him to ash My heart will never burn for lust I stumble away from his remains An incubus's fire Banked deep and dead inside me Maybe I am a witch after all But I will never burn for him |