i want to perform an exorcism on myself
bite into candles so rough
wax’ll become sewn to my mouth
and i forget how to
flick my tongue to form your name.
i must be as close to you as my thighs
are when i sit down,
mature inward upon ourselves
like legs crossing, calves behind kneecap.
count the number of girls
who pretend to be someone else
during sex,
then count the number of girls who say
softer softer softer please
and i’m sorry, i promise the first will win
because chilly air can make us
light-headed and nauseous;
harder harder always just distracts.
i want to swallow guns and swords, then
tell my friends the bruises
came from you – they kind of did.
