Poetry

Seatbelts

My ineffective little human hand reaching across your chest. 
Mine and your parents and your friends and all us mere humans with our 
puncturable skins whispering to the universe.

please god don’t hurt this. 

A clown car of guardian angels fighting for shotgun. 

Poetry, Sex

Phalophillic

I’m straight like it’s a kink. 
Like a sex doll
Kiera knightley up on a high schoolers wall.

Loving them the way I do. 
Like Tom of Finland
Leather and chest hair
Performance and peacocking.

I see those great big feet
That biggest toe like an onion 
with a sprinkle of hair on it.

And something in me becomes fully engorged. 
And I know just what I love.