our needs are pure, menophilia
we are spoiled in every part of each other
painted by projections of plane crashes
silhouettes engulfed in petrol flame
often in fantasy i find you degrading
laughing with estranged lovers
always wanting what i deserve
underserving of what i want
in a constant relapse of identity
distorting into digital red
dissolving into unfamiliar beds
out of forgiveness left to beg
everything temporary keeps living on
a repeating course of antibodies
felt loved beyond the memory
i’m still crying as you cum on me
lapping at your wounds for warmth
it gets exhausting never making any sense
to those you wish could know you
beyond the depths of your cunt
/// 