Two

video

in your actress time you’d always play the rougher parts
entrance the lives of the stupid throats of ordinary people
& i’d be some posh bitch laying down the law & then
i’d go home & wank w/out cumming until i fell
asleep thinking about the echo of your laugh on a sound
stage or the curve of your swollen thigh through rippling
or bubbled water

sometimes I’m smiling like a kid in my knickers. 
my spandex and my glue-gun.  my hunger stripes
across me.  my face of painted leather.  my ruddiness
my windlashed bits // the raw earth of our home upon
the pink tough ridges of our padding heels.  lifelong
softies.  no messing at my sanitary sickbed.  muscle
me into feeling – start up the piano –

a mirror made of flesh

hands flap & roar
never normal under wraps
& putting on events
lest we get defunded whilst
heaving on the nasty pony
of our dailiness, bruised
nail beds, visible as babies
no it DISAPPEARS (the body)
it goes away. i wish it would,
rarely, the frontal image
of my less good self

a hammer hammering a hammer!
ice buckets made of ice!
a cockroach crawling on a rat!
a triangle inside a triangle!
a chicken eating KFC!
a dog doing an impression of another dog on TV!
2x women fucking in the street -

you be the rust
& I’ll be the steel
& disappear. 
you be the rust
& I’ll be the steel
so get on me

by the shoals on the beach
by the water in its plenty
by the sheepskin by the chill
by the trains the trains the trains
by the drowning & the hail
by the moaning by the emails
we’ll cum unhooked in time

i’ve got such a big nose.
i should win.  i should win
an oscar.  pissing in it
is the least best way
to clean a swimming pool.
writing this poem must be
the least best way to say
i like you - all of you -
& even though everything
is disappointing & gross
you are all ok
the way you are.