It came from first trying to describe the feeling of the first discovery of a book no one else is reading and falling in head over heels with it. Becoming obsessed with it. Wanting more of it. Hiding it away from others. Protecting it from others.
This is... To be treated like an author discovered off the prescribed student reading list
Hold me as you do a book.
Suck on these new found wounds
As you do on words of lust.
Forbidden, now tasted first.
Read me as bones up at the church,
An outlier with your youth.
A connection to something other.
Grip me as I grip you.
Attached by our unreliable truth.
Part of the Altogether.
Turn pages like lips in pulse.
They draw a
guilt from paper
Kisses like a poultice
On the body.
An unremarkable body nonetheless
Beats and writhes - ugly thing -
on
pulped, bloody sadness.
The way we like a sadness.
Take slow licks up my skin.
The salty spit reveal papercuts.
From sharpness written.
In your blessed annotation.
Letters bladed as birds' beaks.
Peaks scratched into the surface.
Untie the ribbon which you have me bound.
Crack my spine to lay me down.
Then open me as you do a book.
One outside the prescribed reading list.
No comments:
Post a Comment