July 5, 2024 Poetry

subjugation, not safe

subjugation, not safe
wait, i can explain --
i used to be feral, chewing raw meat 
with sugary teeth, sucking on a carcass during sleepless
nights, trying to fend off boars and foxes. 
i drank only from puddles. 
the taste of it 
still lingers, can you not tell? i was sharing my meals 
with the crooked shadow of a tree. even my nails grew brittle.
but i remember the horizon was a pulsing red line of a promise,
a naked body, beckoning. and your skin now 
is like the sundown was: an opening. 
i need to crawl towards it, inside it. i need to lick your
hand like a dog.

not safe
there is so much magic in porn
and i am addicted to its glamor
from early on i imitate its acidly
complexion bathing myself in a
gaze i should renounce but still
am drinking up raunchily eager
not to shiver love is what we are
used to adore but what about a
blowjob given with honest greed
am i to be a traitor or a victim or
a fighter or a junkie
not all opinions are equal and if 
i do like to kneel and 
i do like to be jizzed on and 
i do like to fuck more than one
person in one go it is deemed a badge of dishonor
to say so openly or it is a case 
of brave reclamation 
but it never
just is
like any popped cherry would be
or the time my girlfriend used an
actual zucchini to make me cum
images or realities being all a bit
murky all a bit endangering all a
bit embarrassing so why not just
keep the drawers closed and not
name transgressions why not be
silent like porn itself is a shadow
of sadness closing in on the dark