Sleazier than a misused religious metaphor

I've tried to write something hot. I'm not sure a graveyard poet with an imaginary gothic band can "do" hot. But here's my go.

This is...

Sleazier than a misused religious metaphor

Across the sticky floor, stepping out a Fujifilm

"Give me a Quick Fuck"

Teasing the F out of a lower lip bite.

Bartender pours a shot of something like

Green cough syrup.

Neck exposed in the swallow.

Maneki-neko 

 Clinging to a white-T

Under, cartoon words:

"I purr if you stroke me"

Shoes that never take themselves off.

Desirous fingers always to unclasp the buckles.

Unthread the straps.

Bare footed walk into the last call black cab.

Across sticky lips, over Jesus and Mary Chain tape:

"Give me little deaths"

Smoke mixed with your breath blows

slow into my mouth on the beat of the vowels.

Try to look like I don't care for it.

Nylon to cotton.

Merlin to Morgan le Fay.

"My tongue will weave you to incantation as it takes little lives away"

Nothing more religious

Than truth telling when we consecrate the grave.

Flesh to flesh.

Across your body wearing Chanel number six. 

"Unclip me from my crucifix"

Sleazier than a misused religious metaphor.

Slithering down and round and lower.

Untied snake gold chains slip loose ends.

Let's dig our bones

Up from the soil of Eden

Let's smear each others' make-up and get to it.

In the greased embrace

Arches and eyerolls collide into energy lit

as anti-matter.

Because nothing matters.

Across a night clutching you tighter than shrink-wrap

"I love fucking darkness"

I imagine the words dripping off your shoulder.

In air thicker than smouldering fume diesel, hair touches

Sweat of the night

Glistening in the ambient light.

We can see the shapes of you and me through the nebula

As it settles on spent things.

And discarded clothing.

Like a polished adder stone

Falling through a hole in a pocket

Into a black stream.