"activity is killing the actor"

it uncurls like dust whirling
from a sharp point

to a furious spiral
to falling down

her hair scattered
soon to be swept

you think
as her lips approach

you see every crack and sore
sure you do but

the horror doesn't stop you

a whimpered no
wouldn't stop you

at 17 your question was
why am I hollow

now you know
making loving to a woman

you don't know
quiet

you don't know
without trembling

the clicking click clack
of your thinking

dreams blur this way
teaching nothing but teasing

this woman moans
grateful and with heat

cracking lips tracking
hungry mouths pressed bone-to-bone

you give
and the emptiness

yawns
beneath you

as she sways sweaty
her freckled ass stains the sheet

the worst verse of this evening
has not yet been reached...



just turn off the lights
it will be easier.