337

to burn the daylight and piss on its ashes
chasing shadows at night into sure madness and love the idea of falling in love with this dark woman who could not possibly love me back

she is everywhere all at once, the night, she refills my wine glass and rubs my shoulders
she lurks about the house in high heels and a little black dress that is by far the best little black dress there is
she howls, strips down to her skin and her skeleton bangs through the walls of her insanity

and all i want, here in the cold warmth of her soft skin, is to let loose the stars that fall from her forehead like beads of sweat
she never wants to cuddle, has no time, we burn together, we burn like radioactive delusion
we burn like buildings, we burn like cities buried beneath your nice happy boring life
god shakes our little grasshopper in a jar and from the pressure she explodes; explodes like a volcano bursting across the universe like a million little rampant children of fireworks and debris

she holds my hand, and not the other way around, she asks me to dance with her hips and we kiss like we’re hiding down back alleys from the cops of morning
we bang like wine glasses filled to the brim with sensational orgasm and god, does she always light my cigarette for me

i spin her around my glass and envelope her as she envelopes me as i envelope her as she envelopes me from the inside out and the outside in and we’re twisting and turning and burning writhing deciding we’re waiting for morning to come to destroy our yearning
to burn the daylight and piss on its ashes

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “MICKEY MOUSE FOR PRESIDENT”

19 thoughts on “337

  1. you write with an exuberance and zest even when pondering the dark and profane. It comes off as a flow of consciousness, of uncensored thought and that, to me, accounts for your works freshness. I’m jealous! Leo

  2. Pingback: MAYBE AMERICA | FLASHLIGHT CITY BLUES

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