Text
Winston tastes good
like a real man should:
my fingers scrabble
at the edge of my bed
til our fingers inter lace
his sweat
drips
down my back and
i am holding on for dear life
and, at the end, he sticks
velvet
at the back of my throat
he fucks like a
(strong and)
real
(tender)
man
(velvet)
should
(lace)
in
and out
(real)
and in
(man)
and out
and in
and out, the tide murmurs over crab carcasses their
tender bits long since picked out, devoured
and there’s some poem in there but I’m
so
(strong and)
tired I’m
(tender)
so tired I’m
so
tired
of trying to piece things
together