There is a part of us
that isn't quite alive
until hollow-starved lunacy is sated

while showing the bright side
her hidden darkness emerged
when I tricked her into hurting herself

she would say come on trick me, trick me, trick me
and I would tell her
Count Dragool with bloody tube fingers would take her slow
if she hit her self hard across the mouth
and then she would scream to Eden
bash mashley thrash me
I want the men with red tridents
and ding dong tails too
while she watched my eyes like surveillance drones as if a great confederation of cocks marched towards her

certainly not painless
but the pain of an addict
who knows all to well the pleasure of the needle
first the little sting and then the great oooow
of becoming eaten kingo flinks
and potato chips

she is butter on the stove
im the rare drug
a Do Do bird beaking flesh
a cold hard penetration
she a yielding intricacy of complications
a bald Rapunzel
feeling under abused til now
with black crow lips and jumbo bangled earings
like a long jangling math problem that ends
with a big O
O popping blood berries
like pink flower hysterical nipples
shooting bullets from belted tattooed hip pistols
on a singing red bed

her limbs a yawing stretch
of insanity sane
her body a torn zipper
being yanked up and down

a frenzy of crying blasphemies and knotted kisses
dancing the bend over
cha cha cha