The otherworldly thoughts of you
are tiny pockets of exhausting pleasure.
I remember how to make you cry
at the cost of a virgin’s laughter.
When you lie next to me and your sleepy breath
excites my nipples mauve
When the fog jumps into my razor-sharp tongue
and I taste its painful, smoky flavor
When the moon is on her walk of shame
and desperately tries to hide her one Super eye
When my bottom right rib
aches at the thought of its undone half
When lightning strikes the wilderness of my hopes
and I have no desire to stave off the drooling wolves of your absence
When a voice matches the face
(how rare is that!)
but the soul fails to fit the underdeveloped heart
I realize that
It has always been about
the tremor of the earthquake mutating off your DNA
the angst of the beautiful coming
the unkind linger
the sweet death
the afterlife perhaps;
It has always been about
and how I was concocted
to love you
to love you
to love you
to treat you like meat
and then tell Mr. Cohen all about it
via ten thousand kisses
ten thousand too deep!
It’s been the longest since I’ve written a line.
A conspicuous procrastinator, I play coy with the urge.
Having taken for granted Mother’s special gene
I suffer gravely from the delusion of our time being infinite.

©Kozi Nasi