She told me, and I didn’t believe her
“Use teeth next time”
Just to hurt more.
A heart doesn’t want to be sober
Like a trail of swollen lights
Masturbating to their own destruction.
You hear the ventilation buzzing
A stutter of cicadas
Stroking to their vibrations
And I cum a purple substance
Goddess Sativa floating in my throat.
The stickiness of thought,
And a centipede spirals into my ear.
“I have stories about the crawl space in your mind that you don’t want to talk about.”
And then I laugh.
I laugh because it doesn’t mean anything.
And I should’ve believed her.
I don’t want to be sober.
I only want to worship you.
(c) A.R. Minhas 2019