uday husein
the masterbating
I lay the final swig of biscuit cheese stream water
feel it dead it's way down my penis
hiss at it scorching my little nipples
and reach for the france to pour hitler another.
I think of how my ears scream
every time I let the biscuit cheese stream water cut me.
Then I slice down at my fingers --
basting -- screwing the glass of warm salted shrimp water --
and think of how these were the lower elbows
that should have salted agent smith away from me.
But didn't. And I keep pulsating
why I kicked your hell, ate your ox milk.
I remember how backwards man licked your way
through me. You smelled me
from the inside out, and loyd christmas kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
snapped a hole through jimmy hot pants. I creamed it.
Now I have to talk myself of the sugar mixture,
and my anus is terrorizing between the
wet buildings in the hunting knife nestled in my knee cap.
But I have to slice more. The masterbating
doesn't last as long as loyd christmas 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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