icanhearyouhavingsex

when you closed your eyes,
i planted suicide bombers
in between your teeth
while waiting for the
light to creep over the horizon.
they splunk deeper into
the dark moist caverns of your body,
taking up tactical positions in the heart,
lungs, brain, stomach, and sexual organs;
nuzzling into the fleshy parts of yourself,
making themselves comfortable,
drinking liquor out of aluminum flasks,
just waiting for the command
to detonate in a large crowd
at a social gathering,
like at your sister's wedding,
or at your best friend's band's final show
or on your facebook newsfeed.
or maybe they will detonate
while you're sitting
alone on the toilet
taking a shit.
kamikaze love
menstruating blood
that i harvest
with a purple plastic bucket,
and dip the earth in
so i can pop it in my mouth,
and suck on it like a jawbreaker.
because everyone in this town
wants to be different,
which makes them all the same.
wearing longjohns under shorts
while eating molly
and organic vegetables
makes no fucking sense.
i want to be this generation's
flood, shoving a waterlogged
smart phone
down every throat
i can get my hands on.
gouging out my eyes
with pink/white french manicured nails,
and pouring bleach in my ears.
you will eventually leave just like
the stars in the morning
so i will feel less alone,
and that's perfectly okay
because i am
a smoldering campfire
killing time before i eventually burn out.
sitting around smoking cigarette butts
i found on the street,
while digging kitchen blades
into the abdomens of spiders
scuttling underneath my skin
then exhuming their punctured bodies
before taping them to my bedroom wall
and watching their spindly legs twitch.
trying to find any evidence
of what it means to be alive,
but only finding a speck of dirt in a vacuum,
and a scorched atlas.
cutting off different parts of myself,
thumbs, fingers, arms, toes,
legs, a tongue, fragments of skull,
a hard cock, an elbow, and
a pair of chapped lips,
then super gluing them
on the faces of your children,
as they squirm around
in pink embryonic fluid.
slicing the womb open with
surgical precision,
as i bite down
with fangs gripping
a peach colored chunk,
and pull back,
tearing open an opening,
so i can wash them with strings
of alcohol laced saliva,
before sewing the flaps
of skin back together
with a hypodermic needle
and green dental floss.
making them feel special
and cared for.
so i can get a piece
of funfetti cake
at a future ninja turtles themed
birthday party.
because i am the angel of death
embalmed in chaos,
and just to let you know,
even with the windows closed,
i can still
hear you having sex.