The eyes glisten beneath
the waves,
while the nervous sing to themselves
and smile with their delicate throats
pressed against glittering steam pipes in the night.

Vanilla harlotry fucks my midnight dreams to
sleep and awakes deadened senses like old dirt bathing
in new worms, setting free feelings we never knew existed.

Stake a claim and stake me all in silence.
Let the bleach leak deep into our bodies
as we dye our selves the pigment of fuck.
The stain of disarray.
The unequivocal shade of illegal.

Paint our faces with the tribal
dew of war and lets prepare
to go home to our spouses.

10/28/2009