brain-based scintillation delivers sweet sensation
strumming in my lumbar spine: this man's got a mind
sees through the outer bitch, awakens the inner fever pitch
'til i forget about libation
...
this is punk rock dissertation
Tuesday, 23 February 2021
my kind of dirty (haiku x3)
filthy compassion
articulated in tune
with the fork in my
tongue, taking turns to
shuffle, we share weekday blues
and choose magnetic
proximity, his
fingers un-bundle curls of
smouldering humour
burgundy five hundred
kissing you
is salty-sweet
anticipatory not-yet-ness
it's a fingernail breaching
the nexus between plastic and
heavy, glossy vinyl
it's the freeze-frame electric
stillness before the stacks buzz
with sonic ecstasy
it's the breath in the ribcage
neither inhalation nor
exhalation, but both
kissing you
is popping candy
chased with an old fashioned
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