What is erupting?
A flamboyant annoyance or a forced orgasm
An excreted gothic poem or a squirting howl
The leakage from your discontented off-pant pen
Drags your life this way, walking on lines and lust
Rubbing your feather's moistened tip against a paper
Where its nib trembles in black, and dances in blue
Moving fro and to in a drunken rhyme
High and down, like metaphors and fables
Like mounting volcanoes on your barren sheets
Flaming whoever, whoever reads
Faster and fastened and pleasing screams
Oily words, wider legs and sweatening leans
Flowing and weaving, overflowing and squeezed
For how long will you chase an enchanted peace
And muster your musk in papers or bed
Tickling your pains with your perky nails
And write your nerves till the ink bleeds
So for how long will you explain this momentum
For how long will you write to go to sleep
And what will come after your blood shows up
You will finger your soul or ply unleashed
To what extent will you release? |