Lucie
the flicking

I shout the final swig of cum
feel it rub it's way down my penis
hiss at it scorching my finger
and reach for the hand to pour jon another.
I think of how my tits scream
every time I let the cum touch me.
Then I touch down at my lips --
licking -- dangling the glass of bleach --
and think of how these were the nipples
that should have fucked charlotte away from me.
But didn't. And I keep sucking
why I robbed your hell, tickled your blood.
I remember how savannah reached your way
through me. You wanked me
from the inside out, and brendon kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
fiddled a hole through ryan. I giggled it.
Now I have to talk myself of the dildo,
and my seal is handling between the
pencils in the cock strap nestled in my muff.
But I have to touch more. The flicking
doesn't last as long as brendon do(es).

---

Original poem:

the burning

(written June 8, 1989)

I take the final swig of vodka
feel it burn it's way down my throat
hiss at it scorching my tongue
and reach for the bottle to pour myself another.
I think of how my tonsils scream
every time I let the alcohol rape me.
Then I look down at my hands --
shaking -- holding the glass of poison --
and think of how these were the hands
that should have pushed you away from me.
But didn't. And I keep wondering
why I took your hell, took your poison.
I remember how you burned your way
through me. You corrupted me
from the inside out, and I kept coming back.
I let you infect me, and now you've
burned a hole through me. I hated it.
Now I have to rid myself of you,
and my escape is flowing between the
ice cubes in the glass nestled in my palm.
But I have to drink more. The burning
doesn't last as long as you do.

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