I just want to fuck.
Now.
Tonight.
I don't want to make love.
I don't want the sting
emotional connections offer.
The only stings I want
to feel, my bee-stung lips
pressed into a venomnous kiss,
the stinging stretch
of my cunt submitting to
your first thrust.
I want to be brutal,
claws unsheathed, teeth bared
eyes closed in sensation,
closed to your gaze watching
me come on your cock.
I don't want to be held
or whispered poetry to.
I want to roll away
glory in post-coital cliche
of a cigarette, smoke weaving
between our bodies with
its insidiously acrid smell.
I want to casually dress
then walk out of the room.
The aroma of us,
sex and sweat,
clinging
barnacles
to be scraped off later.

11/15/2002

Posted on 01/16/2003
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