Three Lucky Strikes
For the three days I’m stuck somewhere else
One for each
So I may touch you with my taste buds

Until I come back
And devour you like the monsters of Halloween
And like the undead
This is where I go with the sleep-deprived nights

Amidst coffee turned cold and unused cigarette butts
Staring at the dullness of the commercial appeal of the inn
And craving for the rarest of the rare
And the exclusive embrace of Eros

Scribbling shit on the pitiful products of the trees
And finding no solace except for patience

Where I count seconds that last longer than the lives of the immortal
And each measure of time becomes a medieval torture device

And that titanic moon above me, cannibalizing and jealousy-inducing
Whispers to me like a diabolical associate that I must run now

From this point of disillusion to the very semen of inspiration, you
So I may watch your own titanic eyes defeat this satellite
In power and hold and majestic magic
Your hair nestles that crown.

(c) 2012

Vivien Marie Lopez
for my husband

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Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.


Go. Moan. Scream. Tell me if you like it. Make some noise.

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